


Of course we’ll stay married!

by rhinestonekitty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Dorks in Love, Eventual Smut, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grand Prix Final, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Miscommunication, Morning After, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Post-Banquet, Romance, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhinestonekitty/pseuds/rhinestonekitty
Summary: Yuuri blinks at the screen, too confused and overwhelmed to read the rest. Another deep breath and he puts the phone down, intending to close his eyes, but they betray him, drawn to an unexpected glint on his right hand. With no time to process its meaning, they dart to the sound of someone emerging from the bathroom. Yuuri's jaw slacks. He finds himself wishing for a panic attack, because that would likely be better than the sheer terror he currently feels from watching the approaching figure. Victor Nikiforov. Correction: a very naked Victor Nikiforov.“Good morning, Yuuri!” Victor is practically glowing. Yuuri freezes and shuts his eyes, feeling a kiss land on top of his head. “Did you sleep well,solntse?”***Victor and Yuuri both get drunk at the Sochi GPF banquet and wake up in bed together the following morning—wearing wedding bands. Neither remembers eloping.Victor is overjoyed. Meanwhile, Yuuri has other feelings.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 98
Kudos: 597
Collections: Yuuri and Vitya (and Co.)





	1. Grand Prix Final

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [empty spaces between stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847568) by [astudyinrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose). 



> This story takes place in the canon universe and rests on the premise that it’s possible to elope late at night, Las Vegas-style. Yes, even in Sochi. 
> 
> Thank you to so many authors here for your stories and character studies. I was inspired by the opening premise of “empty spaces between the stars” and wanted to do a fluffy take on it. It’s my first attempt at creative writing of any sort. Please be gentle.
> 
> Finally, a huge thank you to my beta reader (you know who you are!) for the enthusiasm and feedback.

Morning light pours into the spacious, upscale hotel room thanks to a curtain closed in haste the night before. The couple in bed is still asleep, recovering from the events of the previous night. Crumpled clothes lie in a heap near the bed while an empty champagne bottle sits in a bucket of melted ice on the corner table.

Victor wakes to the winter sun hitting his smooth, pale face, his ocean-blue eyes slow to open, squinting. When they finally adjust, it's to the sight of a hotel room that's definitely not his. In fact, if the decor is anything to go by, this isn’t even the official hotel for the Grand Prix Final. Curious, he calmly shifts up to his elbows to glance around. Spotting the champagne bottle, he sighs in disappointment and turns his head to learn whose bed he shared last night. He had promised himself he would stop doing this.

He half expects to see Chris. That would be just like old times—sneaking off to the other side of town to celebrate away from prying eyes. But no, it’s definitely not Chris. Victor’s heart begins to race and he can’t help but inch closer, staring in awe. It’s Yuuri Katsuki.

Confused delight gives way to a flood of memories from last night’s banquet, including dancing, laughter, and shameless flirting. Victor feels the heat in his cheeks and the swell in his chest as he admires Yuuri’s sleeping form. _Be my coach, Victor!_ His breath catches, much like it did last night, remembering those hopeful words and he instantly falls in love all over again.

Victor quickly forgives himself, deeming his actions last night, whatever they were, a fantastic choice. Only now he’s torn between letting Yuuri sleep or waking him up with a sweet kiss so they can make the most of their too short time together, desperately hoping his boyfriend’s flight out isn’t until the evening. Because surely they’re dating now, right? Right.

Pawing at the nightstand in search of his phone, ready to reschedule his own flight, a glimmer catches Victor’s eye. He halts mid-reach and slowly draws his right hand back to examine the gold band. Just sitting there, casually, on his fourth finger. His first thought should have been, _What the...?_ , not _It's beautiful!_

It takes a few moments before he becomes suspicious and looks at Yuuri—delectable, disheveled Yuuri—and gently peels back the covers to reveal a matching band on the other man’s hand. Victor’s eyes go wide with shock as the realization sets in. _How?_ A beat later, a heart-shaped smile bursts across his flushed face. He’s married. To Yuuri Katsuki.

Victor has always been bold and impulsive, used to getting what he wants through a combination of charm and sheer will. Some might even call him stubborn, though he prefers persistent. And yet it’s only recently that he allowed himself to hope for love in his life. The world’s hottest bachelor, as the media calls him, made a commitment to the ice over twenty years ago. In those early years, he gladly traded relationships for gold medals. But now, gold medals no longer hold joy, merely relief that he’s somehow still managing to live up to his reputation. Twenty years of life for the ice has left Victor desperately lonely, longing for something, for someone. He knew it was crazy—he’d only seen the Japanese skater a handful of times—but he was drawn to his skating, to the way his body created the music. And last night, they danced together. For the first time, Victor danced with someone who wasn’t trying to impress him, bed him, or treat him as a commodity. Last night, Victor fell in love with his crush, with the amazing man who’s now suddenly his husband.

Victor's smile quickly fades when he can’t remember what happened after the banquet. How could he not remember getting married? How could he not remember getting married to Yuuri Katsuki, whose soft, kissable face is right in front of him? He supposes they’ll have their whole lives to make new memories, together. And yet, he struggles to fight off the growing disappointment and discomfort.

The pile of clothes buzzes, interrupting his thoughts, and Victor stumbles out of bed to hunt for the offending device. He can’t help but admire his ring as he checks the screen for the caller. It’s Yakov, of course. Knowing this conversation—or more likely, lecture—will be loud and unpleasant, he quietly tiptoes away to take the call from the bathroom. He hopes that he doesn’t wake up Yuuri. His Yuuri.

“Vitya! Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling for hours. Is it true? Did you marry that Japanese skater, Katsuki?” the gruff coach yells in Russian. It’s still early—why would he have been calling for hours?

“Good morning to you, too, Yakov. And, he’s not ‘that Japanese skater’. My beautiful husband’s name is Yuuri,” Victor replies matter-of-factly, not in the mood for a lecture right now. He doesn’t even bother asking Yakov how he knows. Yakov always knows everything.

“Hmph. Please tell me this isn’t some drunken escapade. Had you even talked to each other before last night?”

“Of course we had.” And it’s true, if you squint hard enough. Victor had tried talking to Yuuri throughout the whole competition, the whole season really, but the opportunity was never quite there, Yuuri slipping away before every attempt. It wasn’t fair that Chris could get away with being so casual and handsy while Victor had to settle for sticking his foot in his mouth by asking his crush if he wanted a commemorative photo. Which Yuuri clearly didn’t.

“Vitya!”

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll admit I probably had too much to drink because I’m still hazy on a few details from last night.” Understatement. “But I’m happy, Yakov. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” _I just wish I could remember it all,_ he doesn’t say. “Did you see how we danced?”

“He was so completely gone I’m amazed he could stand, not that you were much better off. I should have known better than to let you two leave together.”

Victor tunes out the next part—something about being adults and not prying into his private life. His ears perk up, though, when he hears, “Do you think he’ll be just as happy? Don’t be so selfish!” Selfish? Victor is ready to give Yuuri everything.

Yakov proceeds to bark for another five minutes before finally ending with, “Call your publicist and get this under control before it gets any worse. Then get your ass to the airport. Our flight back leaves in four hours.”

“Thank you, Yakov!” Victor sings, but frowns when the call ends. _Do you think he’ll be just as happy?_ echoes in his mind. Why wouldn’t Yuuri be happy?

He looks back at his phone and sees the barrage of missed calls, texts, and media notifications. _Has this already leaked to the press?_ He taps into an article only to see his own Instagram post.

**v-nikiforov**  
[image: Victor and Yuuri smiling directly at the camera, showing off their rings.]  
Celebrating life and love! @katsuki-y  
#married #onlygoldthatmatters 

_Oh._

Victor ignores the hundreds of thousands of likes and comments as he stares at the photo, his eyes focused on Yuuri’s ruddy cheeks and gentle smile, the earlier discomfort slowly dissipating. It then occurs to him that other treats might be waiting in his photo app and he eagerly opens it, hoping for more evidence and reassurance.

There are half a dozen photos of the two of them kissing in the hotel room, all blurry, a testament to Victor’s dwindling motor skills at the end of the night. And then he sees it: the one photo among them that’s clear and gorgeous. They’re exchanging vows, hands clasped, eyes shining bright with affection for each other. He silently thanks whoever took that photo, tracing over the screen with his ringed hand in reverence.

Armed with evidence and dumbstruck with glee, Victor clicks off his phone and tiptoes back to the bed. Back to his Yuuri. _Yakov doesn’t know what he’s talking about._

* * *

Yuuri wakes up with a pounding headache, completely unaware that he’s not in his hotel room let alone in a different hotel. Something seems a bit off, but without his glasses, it’s hard to know if it’s the blurriness or the hangover. His attempt to search his memory for what happened the previous night comes up empty. Nothing. He vaguely remembers Celestino dragging him to the banquet, but that could have been just his imagination for all he knows. The headache suggests there was more to it. _What did drunk Yuuri do?_

There's a muffled voice coming from nearby, Russian yet somehow familiar, which compels him to quickly sit up, only to be greeted by a mess of pillows and covers. Almost as if… _No._ A cautious pat to the other side of the bed reveals it’s still warm. _Oh, crap._ Yuuri begins to panic, fumbling until he finds his glasses. Instantly, his vision becomes clear and sharp, revealing that this is definitely not his hotel room. _Crap, crap, crap._ He instinctively grabs his phone from the nightstand, turns it on, and clutches it as dearly as a security blanket. The unexpected explosion of notifications does not help. A few deep breaths later, he musters the courage to peek at the first text message. ****

**Phichit:** askdjfoiawjenfkjwe!!!!!!  
**Phichit:** Explain!  
**Phichit:**!!!!!!!!!  
**Phichit:** I mean, I’m proud of you. But seriously, explain!  
**Phichit:** Yuuuuurrriiiii!!!  
**Phichit:** Fine, don’t explain. At least call me so I can congratulate you properly. <3

 _Congratulate me? For what?_ Yuuri blinks at the screen, too confused and overwhelmed to read the rest. Another deep breath and he puts the phone down, intending to close his eyes, but they betray him, drawn to an unexpected glint on his right hand. With no time to process its meaning, they dart to the sound of someone emerging from the bathroom. Yuuri's jaw slacks. He finds himself wishing for a panic attack, because that would likely be better than the sheer terror he currently feels from watching the approaching figure. Victor Nikiforov. Correction: a very naked Victor Nikiforov.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Victor is practically glowing. Yuuri freezes and shuts his eyes, feeling a kiss land on top of his head. “Did you sleep well, _solntse_?”

 _This must all be a dream. I’m still asleep. No, I’m hallucinating. Definitely hallucinating. Stress-induced. Yes, that makes sense. Let’s go with that._ When Yuuri opens his eyes, Victor is lying across the bed in all his naked glory, beaming back at him.

Yuuri instantly sobers up the moment he meets Victor’s smiling eyes. With a squeak, he clasps his phone and makes a mad dash for the bathroom, locking himself inside. Behind the closed door, he calms down enough to observe he’s still wearing pants. _Maybe nothing actually happened._

His brain then helpfully supplies him with a blurry memory of that time last year when he ended a night of dancing and grinding on his knees, in front of a striking tennis player whose name he never bothered to learn. So clearly, wearing pants is no guarantee that nothing happened.

Yuuri briefly considers if he’d, in fact, want to remember if something happened. On the one hand, he’s idolized Victor for half his life. It would be a pity to have no memory of their one night together. On the other, Yuuri is woefully inexperienced by comparison and would likely be ashamed of his performance. How could someone who’s never had a proper boyfriend, whose only experience is a handful of alcohol-fueled fucks be enough to satisfy _the_ Victor Nikiforov?

He shakes the thoughts away and turns his attention to his phone instead, ignoring the messages from his friends and family in favor of news and social media. It’s calmer, safer. After all, the articles aren’t demanding a reply. A few taps later, Yuuri slumps to the floor, back against the wall, and stares at Victor’s Instagram post, the earlier terror replaced by disbelief. They look so happy together in that photo taken just a few hours ago. _How did this happen? Two days ago, Victor didn’t even know who I was. Was this just a one night stand that got out of hand?_

The assault of questions paralyzes Yuuri. He knows that Victor is right outside the door, and that he really should go back out there. But now his headache is back and— _ding!_

 **Ciao-Ciao:** Please, just tell me you’re okay?  


It’s only the latest text message of many from his coach. Feeling a pang of guilt, Yuuri reluctantly replies.

**Yuuri:** Yes, I’m okay.  
**Yuuri:** Sorry to worry you. Just waking up.  
**Yuuri:** I promise to call later.

_When I figure out what’s happening._

After considering the possible courses of action, Yuuri resigns himself to talking to his husband—husband!—as his only option to get real answers. With a deep breath, he drags himself up off the floor. A splash of water on his face and a firm look in the mirror later, he re-enters the room.

“Uh, hi, Victor.” Yuuri doesn’t know where to begin. The last time he remembers them talking, Victor asked him if he wanted a commemorative photo. And now they’re married. And just a few minutes earlier, Victor kissed him good morning as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Yuuri.” Victor purrs softly, thankfully now wearing a robe and maintaining his distance.

“What happened last night? I mean… uh… how did we go from not knowing each other to getting married?” The question doesn’t even make sense. In what universe would that be a real question? How could he, a nobody, be suddenly be married to the living legend of figure skating?

“You don’t remember?” Victor looks so crestfallen, Yuuri has to resist the urge to console him.

“I remember Celestino dragging me to the banquet. And that’s really it. Please, Victor, tell me what happened?” he pleads. “I have to know. It’s not like me to, you know,” he gestures between them, “leave with someone. For sex.” What he really means is that it’s not like him to leave with someone for sex and then not remember it.

“No, no, no, Yuuri. You have it all wrong. We didn’t leave together for sex. If it makes you feel better, I doubt we even did anything given how much we drank. Look, you’re still wearing pants.” Yuuri nods. He is indeed wearing pants. Just pants. He suddenly feels self-conscious and walks toward the clothes pile to fish out a shirt.

“But now that we’re sober, I’m willing to try again,” Victor’s eyes sparkle as he winks. _He’s flirting with me. Why is Victor flirting with me?_ Yuuri just stares as he pulls on his shirt.

“To answer your first question, we danced at the banquet. Well, you danced with quite a few people at the banquet. In varying amounts of undress,” Victor smirks. “A particular highlight was the pole dancing with Chris, where you both stripped down to your underwear. Would you like to see pictures?”

Yuuri nearly passes out from the revelation. Stripping in front of ISU officials? _I’m never going to forgive drunk Yuuri._ He does not want to see pictures.

Victor continues, “The biggest highlight for me, though, was our dance together. It was exhilarating, the most fun I’ve had with anyone in years. You swept me off my feet.”

_How could I possibly sweep Victor off his feet? What was it about me?_

Yuuri hums wistfully, wishing he could remember. Cautiously, he asks, “How, how did that lead to this?” He points to his ring. The previously absurd idea of a one-night stand with Victor now seems plausible. But marriage?

Victor shrugs and blushes, running his hand along the back of his head, “Ah, well, I honestly don’t remember either. I was hoping you would.”

Victor doesn’t remember either? Yuuri sits on the bed in defeat. What’s going to happen now?

“Are you sure it really hap—“ Victor’s buzzing phone interrupts Yuuri’s question. It’s his publicist. Victor sighs and explains it’s better they take the call now than waiting until later. He gestures for Yuuri to come closer as he puts the phone on speaker and sets it between them.

“Victor!” is all Yuuri understands as a woman begins to scold in rapid-fire Russian.

Victor politely cuts her off, “Lena, good morning! Yuuri is here with me. We’ve got you on speaker phone.”

“Hello,” Yuuri offers, unsure of his role in this conversation.

“Oh, good, you’re both here,” Lena seamlessly switches to English. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Eh, well, we’re not entirely sure,” Victor admits.

“Don’t tell me you were too drunk to remember? Honestly! Well, while you were busy ignoring your phone, I was drafting a statement to cover your ass. In the process, I managed to dig up a copy of your marriage certificate, which I’ll send to you later. So, yes, congratulations. You’re definitely married.”

A strange sense of relief washes over Yuuri. At least that’s one question answered.

“Now, let’s talk about next steps. It’s obviously too late to contain the news. You made sure of that yourself, Victor, with that absurdly cute photo. So if you get annulled now, it will be very public. You’ll kill the positive press you’re currently getting and damage your image overnight. And Yuuri’s, too. Not to mention the risk of losing your sponsorships. On the other hand, if you wait a few months, let the news die down, you can get a quiet divorce in the off season and minimize the damage. Assuming you’re willing to stay married and be together in the public eye that long.”

“Of course we’ll stay married! Why wouldn’t we? Right, Yuuri?” Victor’s tone is more confident than his eyes, which glimmer with hope as they search Yuuri’s for agreement.

Brown meets blue and Yuuri’s head begins to spin. Annulled? Stay married for a few months? It’s clear that Victor’s asking for help, to stay married to preserve his public image. Yuuri feels like he should be offended because that’s not the kind of relationship he wants. He knows he deserves better, even if it means losing the chance to be close to his childhood idol. He considers the alternative—going back to Detroit. He doesn’t want that, either. Going back means having to think about his terrible performance at the Final, about retirement, about disappointing his family. Disappointing Vicchan. And most of all, disappointing himself.

And so he slowly nods in agreement, decision made, a spark of resolve to make the most of this situation, even if it’s nothing but a temporary escape from his own sad life. Maybe he can forgive drunk Yuuri, after all, for giving him this chance.

“That’s right. Victor and I will stay married,” he declares with as much conviction as he can muster, earning him a warm smile from Victor in return. 

“Wonderful! Yuuri, thank you for agreeing and welcome to team Nikiforov. I’ve got a public-friendly love story ready to go. And now on to the good news!”

 _Team Nikiforov?_ Lena goes on to describe multiple endorsement offers that have already come in for them together as a couple, provided they do a good enough job convincing the world their relationship isn’t just a publicity stunt. She’s certain other opportunities are on the way and that they’ll have their pick. The figures she cites are staggering—two, three, even ten times more money than Yuuri could ever dream of winning in a whole season of competition.

“Really, just take advantage of the offers, stay together through Worlds and then we can say your training schedules got too hectic and caused you to split.”

“Through Worlds”, Yuuri echoes. _I’ll have Victor to myself through Worlds._ He misses the brief flash of hurt across Victor’s face.

“Yes, so here’s the plan. You’ll, of course, both come back to Saint Petersburg this afternoon…”

Yuuri barely hears the logistics of their travel arrangements or having his belongings shipped to Victor’s apartment or the fake public dates they’ll go on to appease the media. His heart is beating too loud, too fast. He’s going to live with Victor for the rest of the season. With Victor. He knows he’s just a means of self-preservation to Victor, much like Victor is a distraction to him. But he doesn’t care. Yuuri’s looking forward to it.

“Next, we need to discuss your training, Yuuri. I’m sure Yakov will agree to give you rink time given the circumstances. And we can work something out with Coach Cialdini to support you remotely, as long as we provide a good assistant coach locally. With Russian and Japanese Nationals overlapping—”

“I’ll coach Yuuri,” Victor suddenly volunteers.

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, but is too shocked to form words. Victor winks at him and flashes a knowing smile.

The living legend of figure skating just offered to coach him. Victor fucking Nikiforov just offered to coach him. Him, a nobody who failed miserably at his first Grand Prix Final. So now Victor is both his husband and coach? The room begins to spin.

“Oh, Victor, that’s brilliant! It’ll make your story even more enticing,” Lena almost squeals with delight and quickly offers to follow up with Yakov on the arrangement herself.

“Okay, that leaves one final matter. Who have you talked to about this? We need to keep it quiet that your marriage was made in a drunken haste.”

“Just Yakov. Yuuri?”

“I haven’t talked to anyone yet.” _I barely understand any of it myself._

“Ok, good. You both need to keep it that way.”

“But...? Not even my family?” Yuuri asks with disappointment.

“Especially not your family. The press will want to talk to them and it’ll be too easy for the truth to slip out. The fewer people who know, the better.”

“What about my best friend? He has tons of dirt on me already and can definitely keep a secret. Please? I need to be able to talk to someone about this.”

“Given that I’ve told Yakov, it’s only fair that Yuuri can tell someone trustworthy, too.”

There’s a long pause. “Fine. But he’s signing an NDA.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri looks directly at Victor as he says it.

With non-disclosure agreements prepped for all parties, Lena leaves them to enjoy what remains of their morning. She had already started working on a press release stating they began their long-distance relationship after meeting at Skate America earlier in the season. Yuuri had won Silver. Victor was not competing, but accompanied the rest of Yakov’s team. It’s a plausible story. She also arranges for their belongings to be brought over from the official competition hotel, warning them not to step outside until they’re impeccably dressed and ready face the press. She’ll send a car to pick them up.

 _I can’t believe I’m doing this._ Yuuri takes a deep breath and escapes to the shower for some much needed time to reflect.

* * *

After the call, Yuuri excuses himself to shower before Victor can ask how he feels. He hoped for some excitement or affection, especially after Yuuri so boldly asserted that they should indeed stay married. He again remembers Yakov’s words, _Do you think he’ll be just as happy?_ and Yuuri repeating, _Through Worlds._ He pushes the thoughts aside, reminding himself that Yuuri doesn’t remember falling in love last night. He just has to seduce Yuuri like Yuuri had seduced him. And Victor certainly knows how to seduce.

It doesn’t occur to him to wonder about Yuuri’s motivation for staying married.

They eat their room service breakfast in relative silence, with slight tension in the air as Yuuri steals sheepish glances at the man whose eyes are fixed on him. Victor breaks the silence first, cupping Yuuri’s chin with his ringed hand and tilting the younger man’s face toward himself before uttering, “Yuuri, tell me everything about yourself.”

Yuuri instantly pulls back, almost falling out of his chair as his face turns bright red. Victor is absolutely delighted at his adorable husband. Forget seducing, Victor wants nothing more than to keep seeing that sweet blush on Yuuri’s face.

“I… uh… what do you want to know?” Yuuri flails.

“What kind of rink do you skate at? What’s in Detroit? We’re married now. Let’s start by building a relationship of trust. ”

“Oh, well… Umm, my roommate is also a rink mate, a skater from Thailand,” Yuuri starts off hesitantly.

“The friend you mentioned, Phichit Chulanont, right?”

“Yes, you know of him?”

“Of course. Yakov always keeps me informed of the up and coming skaters.” Not that Victor pays attention. So, no, that’s not the reason he knows Phichit. He knows Phichit for the same reason that everyone knows Phichit—a top source of high quality social media content on everything skating. And more importantly, the only source of social media content on Yuuri Katsuki.

Dropping his voice, Victor leans in, “Checking you out wasn’t the only reason I was at Skate America, you know.”

It’s a complete lie. Checking out Yuuri was literally the only reason Victor insisted on going to Skate America, having none of the same assignments in the series. It was easy enough to convince Yakov, given the alternative of being coach-less for a week right before his own assignment at Skate Canada. It was harder to convince Yakov that he should actually attend the competition instead of practicing. How fitting that their media story now includes this event.

“Phichit’s very good. I bet he could make the Grand Prix Final next year if he gets a handle on that quad toe,” Victor continues casually, as if Yuuri’s already rosy cheeks didn’t deepen at his last comment.

“Oh, wow. Can I tell him you said that?”

“Please do.”

Now relaxed, Yuuri excitedly talks about Phichit. He tells stories about living, training, and studying together, their antics with Phichit’s hamsters, and how they call Celestino, Ciao-Ciao. As he wipes the laughter tears from the corners of his eyes, Victor reflects on how content he is in this moment. He makes a note to introduce himself to Phichit later, properly. After all, he’s been quietly following the Thai skater’s Instagram account for several months now.

And then he notices it—the smear of cream cheese on the side of Yuuri’s mouth. Victor wonders what would happen if he were to lean across to lick it off. And if his tongue accidentally landed in Yuuri’s mouth, so be it. Yes, Victor is definitely content. And not at all distracted by arousal. Besides, he knows now isn’t the right time to do anything about it anyway.

As if on cue, there’s a knock on their door. Their luggage from the official GPF hotel has arrived and they both busy themselves with getting ready. Victor heads for the bathroom and spends more time than necessary in the shower, imagining all the things he wants to do to his new husband. Stepping out, a towel slung low around his hips, he’s determined to make some progress with Yuuri before they leave for the airport.

“Phichit, no! I’ll be okay, really. But I’ll miss you.”

There’s a desperation in Yuuri’s voice that sets off alarm bells in Victor’s mind. Are Yuuri and Phichit involved? Is Victor a home-wrecker? No, that can’t be it. His Yuuri wouldn’t agree to stay married if he was already with someone else, would he?

Before he gets too carried away, a more plausible and less worrying scenario comes to mind. Yuuri’s not saying goodbye to his lover, he’s saying goodbye to his home. They’re returning today to Saint Petersburg, to Victor’s home, while Yuuri leaves his own behind. Victor assures himself that Makkachin will be there waiting for them, and she’ll definitely cheer Yuuri up if he needs it. Unless Yuuri doesn’t like dogs. _Oh my god. What if he doesn’t like dogs?_

“I will. Thanks for everything. Bye.” Yuuri hangs up and takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumped.

Now’s clearly not the right time either. Victor pouts and proceeds to rummage through his suitcases for an outfit.

He hears Yuuri make another call, this time in Japanese. He can’t understand the words, but picks up on Yuuri’s hesitation and awkward body language. Yuuri ends the call with a sad and serious expression across his face.

“Is everything okay? That was your family, right?”

Yuuri nods and explains, “That was my mom. My family is shocked, of course, but they’re really happy for us. They, uh, want to meet you and umm, want to arrange a Japanese style ceremony for us. I told them…”

“That’s amazing! Yes, we should go right after your Nationals, or maybe after Worlds if we want to spend more time with them, since we’ll be in Japan already. Or maybe we go twice! I can’t wait to meet them!”

“Victor. This is only through Worlds. I don’t want to string my family along. I apologized and told them we’d be too busy training.”

Oh, right. _Through Worlds._ Damn it. Is this why Yuuri agreed, because they said it would be temporary? _Is he just taking pity on me?_

“Victor? What about your family? What will you tell them?”

“Oh, well, you’ll of course meet Makkachin. She’s such a good girl.” He coos and shows Yuuri a photo of his beloved brown poodle, purposefully avoiding the question. “Do you like dogs? Please tell me you like dogs.”

“Yes, I love dogs.”

Relieved, Victor misses the sadness in Yuuri’s smile and instead proceeds to show him twenty more Makkachin photos before the younger man stops him by placing a gentle hand on his arm. Victor, stunned by the contact, quickly goes silent and looks into those warm cherry-brown eyes as Yuuri shifts uncomfortably.

“There's one more call I need to make and we should do it together.”

Victor nods in understanding. Celestino.

“Yuuri! Ciao-ciao! Good to finally hear from you.”

“Hi, Celestino. Sorry it took so long to call. I’ve got my husband, Victor, here with me. We’d like to talk about my coaching plan.” Victor’s heart skips a beat hearing Yuuri call him his husband.

The call goes as well as can be expected. Celestino congratulates them on their marriage and wishes Victor good luck as a coach. When it’s all said and done, they agreed on the split in responsibilities between coaches, what kind of footage they’ll send Celestino for review, and how often they’ll all plan to talk. With only ten days until both Russian and Japanese Nationals, it will be the first test of this new arrangement.

By the time they’re dressed, the entire contents of Yuuri’s luggage lie scattered across the bed. Victor had insisted on choosing his husband’s outfit, leaving Yuuri slightly annoyed and exhausted by the process. But what choice did he have? There is no way Victor would let his adorable morsel out in public again wearing that ugly suit and tie from last night. Instead, he puts Yuuri in the tightest pair of jeans he owns, along with a simple dark v-neck sweater that perfectly accentuates his collarbone.

Victor is very proud of himself and takes a step back to admire his work, but mostly the sculpted ass under those tight jeans. He struggles to keep his hands to himself, smoothing out the fabric across Yuuri’s shoulders, and meets his husband’s gaze in the mirror. Yuuri blushes but doesn’t seem to mind the touch. _Perfect._

“Do you, by chance, have contacts?” Victor wonders.

“I do, but I don’t like wearing them.”

“You’ll want them today, trust me.” He hands Yuuri a pair of designer sunglasses, always traveling with a spare.

The newlyweds make it to their car without hassle, the media being unaware of where they spent the night. Victor opens the door for Yuuri, who slides in first while the driver stows their luggage. When Victor joins him, he places his hand on top of Yuuri’s in reassurance. Yuuri lets him. _Good._

“I’m so glad you’re coming back with me to Saint Petersburg today. You’ll meet Makkachin, we’ll go on a date, I’ll bring you by the rink and introduce you to Yakov and the whole team. And we’ll start your training for your Nationals—” Victor halts when Yuuri laces their fingers together as he looks down at their joined hands.

Victor grins like an idiot, overcome with emotion. _Yuuri does want this!_ Cherry-brown eyes look up with hesitation to meet blue. _Or maybe not?_ Yuuri looks scared. _Yuuri, why are you scared?_ Victor gently squeezes Yuuri’s hand and watches those eyes soften. Neither of them says another word the rest of the ride, their hands remaining entwined.

* * *

**Skaters Nikiforov and Katsuki marry after Grand Prix Final**

SAINT PETERSBURG, Russia — Victor Nikiforov, the most decorated figure skater of all time, and fellow skater Yuuri Katsuki, All-Japan National Champion and Grand Prix Finalist, married in a private ceremony last night after the conclusion of this year’s Grand Prix Final, where they competed against each other in the Men’s Singles division. The couple first fell in love at Skate America earlier this year where Katsuki won Silver and have maintained the long-distance relationship despite their grueling training schedules. They planned to marry in the off season but eloped in celebration of Nikiforov’s unprecedented fifth consecutive win at the Final. The couple will live and train in Saint Petersburg, with Nikiforov stepping in as Katsuki’s assistant coach for the remainder of the season. Both skaters thank their fans for their overwhelming support and well-wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _solntse_ (солнце): sun; as a term of endearment, it’s akin to “sunshine” or “light of my life”
> 
> I specifically did not use the popular diminutive _solnyshko_ (солнышко, little sun) because, from my understanding, it connotes a slight power imbalance. It’s something a parent might call a child. Between lovers, it’s more of a pet name or used to comfort one in distress rather than a term of love and respect.


	2. Saint Petersburg

There’s already a media circus at the airport, eagerly waiting to catch a glimpse of the new skating power couple. When Victor sees them, he’s not surprised, but a bit disappointed. After all, Lena put them on a separate flight from the rest of Yakov's team in hopes of escaping the press until Saint Petersburg. Yuuri sees the mob outside the car and looks to Victor in a silent plea for help.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking. Just hold my hand and we’ll walk straight through them. The driver will get our bags.” Victor smiles softly and with reassurance. Forget seducing, forget the sweet blush. In this moment, Victor only wants Yuuri to feel safe.

Yuuri nods in thanks, puts on his sunglasses, and unconvincingly declares, “I’m ready.”

Flashing cameras and loud reporters greet Victor as he steps out of the car. He ignores them as he turns back to help Yuuri out to join him. With both skaters in view, the instantly blinding lights remind Victor how little he actually cares anymore. Yuuri smiles weakly while squeezing Victor’s hand. Victor squeezes back and speaks on their behalf, “My publicist has already issued a statement. We have no further comment at this time.”

He throws his famous, hollow smile in the general direction of the mob and proceeds to guide Yuuri along to the entrance without looking back.

Yuuri’s hand still tightly grasps Victor’s even as they sit in the lounge, having made it through the ordeal without drama. Victor is happy to hold Yuuri’s hand forever, if only he would smile. Or even just look up. Watching Yuuri stare at the ground makes Victor uncomfortable. What can he do to break the silence? What would he want at a time like this?

“Shall we get a drink?” he cheerfully offers.

“A drink?” Yuuri looks up and raises his brows in momentary disbelief, only for the sides of his mouth to quirk up ever so slightly. “I don’t think I can drink ever again after last night.” He shakes his head, the smile growing wider each second before bursting into laughter, loud and genuine.

Victor joins in, relieved to see Yuuri finally showing signs of relaxing. That is, until Yuuri looks down at their laced fingers and gently pulls his hand away, clearly just realizing it was still holding Victor’s, while mumbling a meek apology.

“Don’t be sorry. I rather enjoy holding my husband’s hand.” Truthfully, Victor thinks Yuuri should apologize for pulling his hand away, not for holding it so long in the first place.

“Actually, I think I do want a drink. A non-alcoholic drink. Tea. Can I, uh, bring you anything?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you. Just cream, no sugar. You’re sweet enough.”

Victor delights in seeing Yuuri’s blush creep in before he scurries off. The rear view is nice, too, and he praises himself once again for the outfit he managed to pull together from Yuuri’s meager selection. He should really do something about that.

Smug with his good fortune at finally having Yuuri and completely unable to restrain himself, Victor reaches for his phone, eager to rub it in a certain Swiss skater’s face, not expecting the sincere messages already waiting for him.

**Chris:** Wow, you sure move fast now that you’ve gotten to talk to him.  
**Chris:** Nice press release, by the way. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.  
**Chris:** Seriously, though. Congratulations, my friend. You deserve to finally have someone. 

**Victor:** Thank you!! I’m happier than I’ve ever been!! )))))

He means it, even knowing Yuuri still needs some time to feel the same.

**Chris:** So you won’t mind when I take first at Euros, right? ;)  
**Chris:** Since gold medals aren’t what matters anymore? 

**Victor:** You’re welcome to try.

Their typical banter gives Victor pause. _What would a silver feel like, anyway?_

—

“Victor, tell me about Saint Petersburg,” Yuuri asks shortly after takeoff, already looking sleepy. 

“It’s exquisite, romantic. You’ll love it! There are old palaces and museums. I live a short walk from the rink, so you won’t get to see much day to day, but I’ll definitely take you sightseeing as soon as we’re settled in. That would be great for a publicity date, too, don’t you think? Lena would be happy.”

“Mmhmm. And what about your place? What’s that like?” Yuuri dodges the publicity date question without Victor’s notice.

“Let’s see. My apartment’s on the top floor of a vintage building, but it’s all modern inside—tall ceilings, hardwood floors. The kitchen opens to the living room. Then down the hall, there’s the master suite and a nice second bedroom. It’s just me and Makkachin so we don’t need much. But I find it’s very comfortable to come home to after a hard day of training.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Oh, don’t worry, _solntse_ , I’ll make you feel _very_ welcome.” Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and gently brings it to his lips, kissing the ring and knuckles. His eyes remain fixed on Yuuri’s as he gives his husband a sultry smile. Yuuri looks away, but not before Victor can see the rising pink in his cheeks. _Oh, this is going to be so much fun!_

—

Victor watches the serene face breathing quietly on his shoulder and enjoys this simple, perfect moment, butterflies starting to dance in his stomach at the thought of a domestic life. He must have drifted off at some point, too, because he stirs awake when Yuuri shifts, the raven hair tickling his nose. _I definitely won’t mind waking up like this every day._

He decides to use the remaining flight time to tend to social media, cautiously optimistic the spotty wi-fi can keep up. And now that there’s no risk in publicly liking photos and videos of Yuuri, Victor has a mission. Naturally, he starts with Phichit’s account, liking the first photo he finds. It’s a selfie at the rink in Detroit, with Phichit’s arm around a reluctant Yuuri, taken just a few days before the Grand Prix Final. Victor remembers thinking how cute Yuuri looked in that photo the first time he saw it, eager for the competition to start so they'd finally have a chance to talk. He barely finishes posting his overly enthusiastic comment when he gets a private message.

 **phichit+chu:** Please don’t hurt him.

Surprised, Victor wonders if it’s a threat or a plea. Has someone hurt Yuuri in the past? He fondly looks down at the peaceful figure still snoozing against him and replies with easy confidence.

 **v-nikiforov:** I won’t. I promise.

—

Despite the late hour, the circus is even worse coming off the flight in Saint Petersburg. After all, Russia’s national hero is returning to his home town with another gold medal. And a husband.

“Victor, did you go to Skate America specifically to meet with Yuuri?”

“Why did you keep your relationship a secret?”

“Yuuri, will you be training alongside Yakov’s team here in Saint Petersburg? Do you think you’ll be able to keep up with Russia’s top skaters?”

Victor picks up on Yuuri’s discomfort and his usual patience for the paparazzi wears thin.

“Thank you, everyone, for your support. But it has been a long day and I really must get my gorgeous new husband to bed.” He places a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek and gives the press his typical wink as Yuuri’s face begins to rival a tomato.

They use the reporters’ moment of stunned silence to escape to their car. Once inside, they both erupt into childish giggles. Victor’s heart soars hearing Yuuri’s laugh—the same genuine laugh from breakfast, from the airport, both of which now seem in the distant past rather than only a few hours ago.

As promised, they call Lena once the car pulls away from the airport. She confirms all the arrangements they discussed have indeed been made and tells them about a dinner reservation for tomorrow night at a trendy restaurant where they would definitely been seen.

“The next few days are very important for you two. After that, we can scale back the public appearances. Victor, I need you to keep posting photos of the two of you together. Your fans love them, and it’s how this whole thing started. Let’s keep the momentum, show off your happiness in your honeymoon phase. And, Yuuri, I know it’s not your thing, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to post some, too.”

After the call, Victor asks, “Why don’t we take a selfie on your phone? For your account?”

“Sure.”

They squish their faces together and smile. Victor's is heart-shaped, genuinely excited to be sharing his new relationship with the world. He doesn't expect to feel Yuuri's soft, warm lips on his cheek—the light peck a welcome surprise—as he takes the photo. Victor nearly melts into a puddle on the spot. Yuuri kissed him!

“Let me see, let me see!” Victor makes grabby hands for the blue poodle-clad phone. The image is absolutely delightful, causing him to wrap his arms around his Yuuri, who pries the phone away and scrunches his tomato-red face as he types a few words. Satisfied, he turns the screen to Victor for approval.

**katsuki-y**  
[image: Yuuri and Victor riding in the back of a car, Victor’s eyes wide as Yuuri kisses his cheek]  
Almost at my new home sweet home with @v-nikiforov  
#married #saintpetersburg #newbeginnings  


“Perfect.”

The moment he posts the photo, Yuuri’s stomach growls.

“It must have been that talk of dinner tomorrow,” Victor laughs. “Why don’t I order some food now so we won’t have to wait long after getting home.” _Our home._

—

They barely make it through the front door when a big, brown fluff tackles Yuuri to the ground, pinning him down. There are paws on his chest and a panting tongue dangerously close to his face. Victor is ready to scold Makkachin for being so rude, but Yuuri starts to pet her before he can react.

“You must be Makkachin. I’m Yuuri. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Boof!”

Yuuri laughs as Victor pulls the poodle away and helps him up.

“Sorry about that. But I’m glad she likes you. We might have had some problems if she didn’t,” Victor pretends to joke but Makkachin’s affection is no laughing matter. 

Yuuri smiles and crouches back down to continue petting the good girl. He pulls her into a hug, and after a few moments breaks down into tears, his body slumped over the pup. Victor just watches in confusion, completely helpless. He’s not good with people crying in front of him.

“Uh, Yuuri, what’s wrong?” He knows that Makkachin is good at comforting, but why does Yuuri need comforting? They were smiling together just moments ago.

Yuuri continues crying into the curly fur, the quiet tears eventually giving way to loud sobs. _There’s nothing I can do._ Victor dumbly sits down next to them and studies the grain of the wood floor for lack of anything else to do. This is nothing like how he imagined this evening would go.

Eventually Yuuri goes quiet and opens his red, tear-stained eyes. He looks straight ahead, avoiding Victor’s gaze, still holding Makkachin.

“I’m sorry. I…” he chokes, “I had a poodle just like Makkachin, but smaller.” He takes a deep breath. “He died last week, and I wasn’t there for him. In fact, I haven’t been home in almost five years.” Yuuri pauses for another sob. “He died waiting for me. I let him down.”

Yuuri finally lets go of Makkachin and shrinks into himself on the floor. She stays nearby.

Stunned at the revelation, Victor scoots next to his husband and wraps an arm around his shoulder. They sit in silence for a few minutes, broken only by Yuuri’s occasional sniffle and Makkachin’s panting. Victor runs his fingers through Yuuri’s soft hair, finally cupping his cheek and lifting his face toward his own. Yuuri won’t meet his eyes. _Please Yuuri, how can I make you feel better?_

The friendly pup steps in to help, deciding now is the perfect time to climb into Yuuri’s lap and lick his face. Yuuri cracks a smile, hugging her. It’s a welcome distraction for them both. Soon after, with a hint of hope and brightness in his face, Yuuri turns to Victor, “I’m sorry. Uh, thank you for sitting with me. It helped.”

“Yuuri, I’m sorry that happened. I can’t believe you still competed.” _No wonder he didn’t skate like his usual self._ The mere thought of having to take Makkachin to the vet makes Victor’s stomach turn. He can’t fathom losing her. “You’re incredibly strong to have done that. I’m certain I would have withdrawn.”

“I couldn’t do that. It was my first Grand Prix Final.” Even with the competition behind them, the resolve echoes.

Of course. Yuuri still has something to prove in this sport. Victor aches to comfort Yuuri and impulsively pulls him into a tight hug. _I promise to be a good coach to you._

They continue to sit on the floor until their dinner arrives.

* * *

Yuuri cautiously takes in his new home as Victor gives a tour, Makkachin trailing behind them.

“And this is our bedroom.” Victor opens the door to an unnecessarily large master suite with a King size bed, a balcony overlooking a park, a walk-in closet the size of a small bedroom, and a luxurious bathroom with a soaking tub. Makkachin immediately jumps onto the bed like she owns it, ignoring the plush dog bed near one of the nightstands.

“I’ll clear out some shelves and hangers in the closet for your things when they arrive. How much space do you think you’ll want?”

 _Closet… what?_ Yuuri had stopped listening after _our bedroom._

“Uh, Victor, didn’t you say you had a second bedroom?” Is there a second bed or are they really are going to sleep together?

“Oh, sure, it’s right this way.” They walk across the hall to a smaller room filled with nothing but skating gear, costumes, and medals on display. A simple desk and chair sit in the corner. No bed.

“I don’t want skating invading the whole place, so I tuck everything away in here.”

Nope, definitely no bed.

Having seen the whole apartment, they return to the master bedroom to unpack and turn in for the night. Yuuri folds his clothes into neat stacks and carefully arranges his toiletries on the bathroom counter. Once done brushing his teeth and changing into an old t-shirt and shorts, he ventures out from the safety of the bathroom to join Victor in bed. Their bed.

Victor is sitting up against the headboard reading a book. He’s wearing glasses. Yuuri’s brain explodes. How is it possible that Yuuri, a huge Victor fan for over ten years, didn’t know his idol wears reading glasses? And that he looks even hotter with them on? The covers are only pulled up to Victor’s lower hips, leaving little to Yuuri’s very active imagination. He barely even notices Makkachin snoozing at the foot of the bed.

“Ready for bed, _solntse_?” Crystal blue eyes sparkle with mirth. 

Yuuri takes a deep breath. _I said I wanted to take advantage of the situation, so here’s my chance._ “Umm, Victor, do you always sleep in the nude?”

Victor gives that hard-to-resist seductive smile in reply, “I promised earlier that I’d make you feel welcome, didn’t I?”

Yuuri’s brain explodes again. He gapes at Victor, left eye twitching. _Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought._

Victor chuckles, “Come here. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want.” He pats the bed and slides over to make more room for Yuuri. Makkachin whines at being disturbed.

Yuuri climbs into bed carefully, staying as close to the edge as possible. He turns to look at Victor, who places a chaste peck on his temple and smiles warmly, allowing Yuuri to relax. It seems like his husband is willing to meet him where he’s at.

“Good night, Yuuri. Thank you for staying with me.”

“Good night, Victor.”

With the lights off, Yuuri listens to the sound of Victor’s breath as it becomes deep and regular. Yet his own heart races as he processes everything that happened today. He agreed to their arrangement in a moment of shock, justifying it as an escape from his life. But now there’s only one thought on his mind: Yuuri has the man he’s admired for nearly half his life. Even if it’s just for now, he’s stolen Victor from the rest of the world.

Yuuri toys with his ring, studying it in the dark and feeling the weight on his finger. He sneaks a glance at Victor and covers his blushing face with his hands. _We’ve barely even spoken because I put him on such a high pedestal. And now he’s right here. I get it now. My heart’s pounding because of how happy I am._

—

Yuuri stirs awake and opens his eyes to the bright and airy room, inviting yet still unfamiliar. _Yesterday wasn’t just dream. I’m really in Saint Petersburg, in Victor’s bed. Our bed._ He unsuccessfully shifts up to his elbows, trapped in place by strong arms around him. The struggle to free himself proves futile as the arms only pull him in tighter, sealing his fate. Perhaps Victor is still asleep and thinks he's cuddling Makkachin? The unmistakable pressure of Victor's morning arousal from behind indicates otherwise, Yuuri's panicked squeak echoing throughout the apartment.

Victor bucks his hips into Yuuri, as if his intention wasn’t already clear. Yuuri yelps and leaps out of bed, his entire face glowing from embarrassment. He looks right at Victor, about to scold him, only to notice that the man is completely naked. _Of course._ Victor has no shame and simply grins like the Cheshire cat.

When Yuuri stutters in protest, Victor pouts dramatically, “My husband doesn’t even want to make love to me. What kind of marriage is this?”

How will Yuuri possibly survive Victor’s flirtation in the coming months? Accepting there’s no way around it, he plays along as best he can, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. Or maybe it’s real annoyance, he’s not sure. “The temporary kind. Did you already forget?”

Victor sighs and covers himself with the bed sheet, proceeding with an unexpected softness, “I didn’t forget. But we agreed that we’re in this marriage together.”

Yuuri nods in reply. They did agree, _through Worlds_.

“What do you want me to be to you, then? A business partner?”

 _What?_ “No.”

“A mentor, then? A friend?”

 _I’m still not sure._ “Mm.”

“Your lover, then? Guess I’ll do my best.”

“No no no no no! I want you to stay who you are, Victor.” _I don’t want you to pretend to like me just because of one drunk mistake._ “And I promise to take you seriously as a coach.”

“Okay, I won’t let you off easy, then. That’s my way of showing my love.”

_Love?_

—

The fascinating traces of dark liquid in Yuuri’s now empty mug allow him to avoid eye contact with Victor as they discuss the day over breakfast, rink time for both of them already booked. Who wouldn’t want to get back on the ice after a disastrous performance at the Final, especially with the eyes of the Russian team on him? Yuuri prays he’ll be good enough for Victor, that he won’t embarrass them both.

Then there’s the dinner Lena arranged for them. Victor insists on taking Yuuri shopping for a new outfit for their date.

“Please, Yuuri? Your clothes from Detroit won’t be here until tomorrow and we have to look the part for the press. We can even go sightseeing while we shop!” Yuuri begrudgingly agrees, only because he does want to go sightseeing, knowing full well this is his only opportunity for at least the next two weeks. He still doesn’t see anything wrong with the clothes he has.

Their plans settled, they walk the comfortable distance from Victor’s apartment to the rink at a leisurely pace. Victor is proud of his city and excitedly points out every interesting building, bridge, and shop. Yuuri does his best to take it all in, savoring the bright and clear day. Everything seems to shine, but the sight that excites Yuuri the most is Victor. Victor Nikiforov, the man of his dreams, looks at him like he’s special, like he’s worth paying attention to. It makes Yuuri’s heart flutter, launching him into a fantasy about staying married. He doesn’t even notice when they’ve arrived at the rink, pulled from his daydreams by Victor’s enthusiastic tugs to go inside.

“Yakov! We’re here!”

Yakov merely huffs in acknowledgement, “Vitya, Mr. Katsuki, this way.”

The pair follows the intimidating man back to his sparse office. With the door closed, the two skaters sit next to each other across from the coach, a large desk separating them. Victor is smiling. He’s completely relaxed, sitting back, legs crossed, one arm draped across the back of the chair. Meanwhile Yuuri mentally prepares himself for an interrogation. Or a stern lecture. Or both.

“Vitya, I’m getting too old for your selfish whims. I don’t care about you, but they affect the rest of the club as well. And this latest one tops them all.” Yakov gestures toward the two skaters. Victor barely shrugs, maintaining his smile as Yuuri curls into himself.

“Mr. Katsuki, I don’t know what reasons you have for going along with his scheme. I’m not sure I want to know. But I’m grateful for your cooperation to keep this idiot out of trouble. I understand you’ll require time at our rink and that Vitya offered to step in as an assistant coach to Celestino Cialdini. Since I coach with Vitya in the mornings, I’ve worked out your schedules so you’ll train with him in the afternoons with additional practice time in the evenings for you both. You will also have the same rest days. Understood?”

Yuuri is stunned. _I’m not in trouble?_

“Thank you, Coach Feltsman. Thank you for accommodating me. I will work hard and skate my best to make your club proud. And please call me Yuuri.” Yuuri sits up straight and bows politely. He swears he sees a hint of a smile on the Russian coach’s face.

“And you may call me Yakov.”

—

The main rink is bright and beautiful, gleaming from the abundance of natural light coming through the soaring windows. It’s also intimidating. Of course, there are the skaters on the Russian team, which are a force of their own. But to Yuuri’s dismay, there are also so many onlookers. He starts to miss his quiet ice time in Detroit and can only hope tomorrow won’t be as busy as today. For now, they’re just here for him to tour facilities and do some light run-throughs.

Victor takes his part as tour guide very seriously, dragging Yuuri around by the elbow like some trophy husband to meet everyone there.

“Mila! Come meet my husband! This is Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s top skater. He’s joining our club starting today. And I get to be his assistant coach,” Victor practically bounces.

“Yuuri, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mila immediately hugs her new rink mate, startling him. “Welcome to Saint Petersburg. I’m so glad Victor’s finally found someone who makes him happy.” Mila is a younger skater with striking red hair and a bright smile.

“But if he ever does anything stupid, just let me know. I’ll take care of him for you,” she stage-whispers to Yuuri. In a strange way, her energy reminds Yuuri a bit of Phichit and the thought immediately puts him at ease.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be here. And, uh, can you do anything about the stupid things Victor’s already done?” Yuuri attempts to make a joke. It must have worked because Victor pretends to be deeply wounded by the comment, laughter in his eyes.

“Victor! He’s adorable. Let’s keep him.” She flashes a huge smile and hugs Yuuri again. “Definitely better than our Yuri.”

“Oh, you mean Yuri Plisetsky? Where is he?” Yuuri nervously scans his surroundings.

“He’ll be here later. Despite what you might have heard, he’s just a kitten. Don’t let him intimidate you,” Mila reassures him.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuuri thinks back to his run-in with the Russian Punk in the bathroom only days prior and has a hard time imagining him as just a kitten. _Incompetents like you should just retire!_

Having made the rounds and seen every corner of the facility, Victor and Yuuri lace up their skates and step out onto the ice. _I’m here, on Victor’s home ice, skating together with him, with his friends watching._ Yuuri’s surprisingly calm, focusing on the sounds of his blades as he relaxes into his warm-up, and notes the subtle differences of this ice compared to Detroit. It’s ever so slightly softer, the blades cutting into it just a hair easier. Yuuri always feels at home on the ice, no matter where. But in that moment, he decides he likes _this_ ice, Victor’s ice, best.

“Hey, Victor, I’m going to run through my free skate now, okay?” Yuuri doesn’t feel entirely ready, but he wants to feel worthy of his new rink mates, of Victor as a coach.

“Wait, before you do that! I have an idea. Skate the part starting with the Ina Bauer.”

“You know my choreography?”

“Yuuri! Of course I do! I’m your coach, aren’t I?”

Yuuri does as told, stunned that Victor already had time to study his program. Just as he comes out of the Ina Bauer, Victor skates up next to him and begins to shadow his movements. They skate together, weaving around each other, in and out of dance hold, eventually trying out a few side-by-side spins and jumps. They laugh so much when they stumble and catch each other that Yuuri wonders if Victor set up the whole thing on purpose. It’s the most fun Yuuri’s had skating in a long time.

When they step off the ice, it’s to a round of enthusiastic applause from their rink mates. Mila proudly informs them that she recorded a video of their antics and uploaded it for the world to see. Victor immediately asks for the link. Yuuri ducks his head.

“Oy, Victor! What the hell was that? You marry some loser, bring him back to our rink, and then switch to Pairs? Keep that up and I’ll crush you when I enter seniors next year.” It’s the Russian Punk. How long has he been standing there?

“Yura! Show some respect. Yuuri is Japan’s top skater. Yuuri, I’m sorry, but our Yuri here is a bit of a hothead…”

“Don’t bother with introductions. We’ve already met.” And with that, _the kitten_ throws daggers at Yuuri with his green eyes and stomps off as the rest of the group shrugs and returns to the conversation. Yuuri is relived he didn’t bring up how they met.

“Oh, I suppose you have,” Victor thinks aloud, index finger on his mouth.

Yuuri sighs in defeat. Was it too much to hope that Yuri hadn’t told Victor about his embarrassing display in the bathroom after the Final?

—

 **Phichit:** Soooo… how’s married life? ****

 **Yuuri:** Coach Yakov is being very generous with my ice time, so that’s a relief.

 **Phichit:** Not what I asked.

**Yuuri:** Victor is… flirty.  
**Yuuri:** But somehow sweeter than in the interviews and news clips.

**Phichit:** I have a theory that Victor’s actually in love with you. That it wasn’t just a drunk mistake.  
**Phichit:** He really wanted to marry you.

 **Yuuri:** That’s insane.

 **Phichit:** He started following my account after Skate America.

 **Yuuri:** That doesn’t mean anything.

 **Phichit:** Immediately after I posted that sexy photo of you with your silver medal.

 **Yuuri:** :rolling_eyes:

Is it possible? After the whirlwind of the last two days, Yuuri supposes that anything is possible. But highly unlikely. He dismisses Phichit’s theory on the spot and soon forgets it entirely.

* * *

Victor watches Yuuri in awe. Cherry-brown eyes sparkle as they take in the sights along Nevsky Prospect, the two men strolling casually along the busy avenue, too relaxed for the bustle around them. Victor’s walked down here hundreds of times before, but it’s never felt like this. His familiar city suddenly seems new and exciting as he experiences it through Yuuri.

A gust of wind makes Yuuri’s cute nose crinkle just before he sneezes. _Oh!_ Victor can’t have Yuuri catching a cold. He snaps out of his trance and remembers the primary purpose of the task at hand—shopping! How could he have forgotten? Yuuri, of course. Yuuri’s too sweet and distracting, that’s how. Looks like they’ll also need to find a proper winter coat along with the date outfit.

Victor drags Yuuri from store to store, enjoying having an excuse to admire Yuuri’s body as he makes his delicious husband model one outfit after another. It’s not that it’s hard to find something that Yuuri will look good in—he’s a world-class athlete after all—it’s just Victor hasn’t had this much fun shopping in ages and he wants to make it last.

“Yuuri! What’s taking so long?” Victor whines as he stands impatiently outside the fitting room. Without waiting for a reply, he barges in to find his flustered husband struggling with the buttons on the cuffs of his impeccably tailored dress shirt.

“Here, let me.” Victor says in a sultry voice while stepping close into Yuuri’s space, causing him to retreat back against the wall. As they stand chest to chest, eyes locked, Victor brushes Yuuri’s shoulder with his hand, then slowly trails down Yuuri’s arm, finally ending at the wrist. After a moment, he stands back and slowly, deliberately buttons the cuff.

“Tha—thank you.” Yuuri looks disappointed when Victor steps away. _Ah, progress._

Victor pays for everything without question, even when Yuuri protests. The whole experience feels so domestic, so casual. Victor had no idea how much he wanted this until today—someone to take shopping, someone to dote on. And now he can’t imagine not having it again.

—

“How do you feel about the dinner tonight? I know the last two days have been a lot.” It’s been a perfect day already. Victor wants to make sure it ends on a high note.

“I think I’ll be okay. I feel better about everything compared to yesterday. It helped spending time together today, too.”

“Good. Tonight will be our last chance to relax for a few weeks, so we should enjoy it. Now why don’t I help you with those new pants we got earlier?”

“I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own pants, Victor,” Yuuri deadpans.

“Alright. Would you care to help me with mine instead?” Victor grins.

—

Yuuri looks calm and confident as Victor pulls over in front of the art-deco inspired restaurant, an audience eagerly waiting for them. He’s more like the banquet Yuuri than the shy, sweet Yuuri Victor has seen the last two days and it’s hot as hell. Not to mention how his body looks in the new, perfectly fitted clothes hiding under the stylish new coat. Who needs dinner anyway? But there’s nothing Victor can do about the situation. Even if they were back home, he knows Yuuri’s not ready.

Victor walks around his sleek sports car to open the door for Yuuri while tossing his keys to the valet. As he helps Yuuri out, he leans in close and whispers, “You look even more amazing right now than when we left the apartment. Let me show you off.”

Yuuri beams in return and Victor promptly loses it. He needs that tactile contact and does the only thing he thinks would be appropriate—he wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulls him in close, kissing his temple. Judging by the flashes and whistles, the crowd loves it. To Victor’s delight, Yuuri snakes an arm around his waist in return. They proceed to walk into the restaurant, smiling for the cameras.

“Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki, right this way.”

They follow the host through the classy restaurant, noting the gilded details and bold chandeliers, to a relatively quiet booth. It’s private enough that they can talk freely and enjoy their evening, but within view from the outside window to allow the media to get their story. As Victor presses his palm to Yuuri’s lower back, encouraging him to sit, a few camera flashes go off from _inside_ the restaurant. It seems the other patrons have also noticed their presence.

“Is it always like this when you go out somewhere?” Yuuri asks as he picks up the menu, seemingly unfazed.

“It’s not usually this bad, no. But I’ve just returned after a major win. Married. ‘Victor Nikiforov, famous playboy is officially off the market.’” Victor parodies a headline. “They’re mostly here because of you, Yuuri.” He pauses to let it sink in. “And, really, who can blame them?”

Victor looks directly into the soft eyes in front of him, captivated by their rich color and unfairly long lashes, and his gaze is met with equal intensity.

“Indeed,” Yuuri smirks. _Fuck._

After the waiter takes their drinks order, they ease into a light conversation recapping their day. Victor describes some of the sights they passed in more detail as Yuuri listens intently, chiming in with questions and observations. The soft, kissable mouth across from him manages to convince Victor to take Yuuri sightseeing again, properly this time, without shopping. The gorgeous shapes Yuuri makes with that mouth as he tries to pronounce the menu items could probably convince Victor to do just about anything right now. Victor knows it and wipes his own mouth with his napkin a few times just to make sure he’s not salivating.

Having decided on their meal, the conversation shifts to training.

“Why did you offer to coach me? Won’t I be a distraction from your own training?”

“That’s simple. You asked me to.”

“I did what? When?”

“At the banquet. You invited me to your family’s hot springs at the end of the season and asked me to be your coach if you won a dance-off. That’s why I said I’d be your assistant coach so easily. I want to do this, Yuuri. Plus, I’d say you won fair and square.” Victor gives a sly smile.

A pause. Yuuri blinks a few times. And just like that, shy, sweet Yuuri is back.

“What, what else did I do or say that I should know about?”

“I already told you about the pole dancing with Chris! Oh, and you had a dance-off with Yura, too. He was so angry when he lost,” Victor laughs at the memory. “It was precious.”

Yuuri is quiet. Is he okay?

“Yuuri, listen to me. You’re not a distraction. Not even close. You’re the inspiration I need right now to keep skating this season.” Victor takes a deep breath, knowing he’s about to reveal a part of himself he’d rather hide. “I’ve been struggling to surprise the audience. All I can do now is keep winning gold, but that’s exactly what they expect. I don’t know how else to surprise anyone anymore. But you, you’re a breath of fresh air.” Victor hadn’t realized the truth behind those words before speaking them. But now everything is clear. Yuuri truly is a breath of fresh air, both on and off the ice.

“Me, inspire you? But—“

“Yes, you. You’re dazzling on the ice. I can’t take my eyes off you when I watch you skate.”

“If you’ve watched me skate, then you know I’m inconsistent. That I flub my jumps.” Yuuri looks away, clearly ashamed.

“Forget what happened at the Final. I know you have the skill to win.” Victor considers himself to be an excellent judge of skating talent, and he knows Yuuri’s is raw and exceptional.

“But I only have two quads. And I’ve never even landed the Salchow in competition, only in practice.”

“Why can’t you make it happen?” Victor’s suspected the answer for a while now, but after their last two days together, he’s more sure than ever.

“Well, that’s probably because I lack confidence.” _Ah, now we’re getting somewhere._

“That’s right. As your coach, my job is to make you make you feel confident in yourself.” Their eyes meet, Yuuri’s wide in surprise.

Thankfully, their dinner arrives before the conversation dips into an uncomfortable lull. Both men savor the aromas of their dishes and eagerly dig in. The borderline inappropriate moan of approval Yuuri gives his dish causes Victor to nearly choke. After composing himself, Victor smiles seductively at his husband, receiving a half-lidded gaze in return. Sexy Yuuri is back, and it gives Victor an idea.

“ _Solntse_ , let’s have some fun with the cameras outside. They’ve been waiting patiently for something juicy. What do you think?” Victor drops his voice to a low purr.

Yuuri simply gives a knowing smile and offers a fork-full of his dish, carefully bringing it across the table to Victor’s eagerly open mouth. They proceed to tease the cameras, feeding each other and comparing dishes in the process, flirting shamelessly the entire time. By the time dessert arrives, the reporters outside have barely thinned out.

“Should we give them one final show?” Yuuri offers more eagerly than Victor expected.

“Of course. Let’s.”

Victor spoons out some whipped cream from the mound of berries set between them and proceeds to feed it to Yuuri, who suggestively licks it off. A few flashes go off. Yuuri wraps his whole mouth around the next spoon, puckering his lips as Victor slowly draws it back. Victor’s piercing blue eyes are fixed on cream-smeared lips as he leans across the table and whispers into his husband’s ear, “You know, there’s something else I’d rather see in your mouth.” 

Yuuri's spoon instantly hits the table, his cheeks an adorable shade of crimson Victor hadn’t previously seen. The cameras definitely notice the reaction. Victor chuckles to himself, wondering what the captions will say.

Yuuri doesn’t look directly at Victor the rest of the night.

—

Victor sits in bed reading, waiting for Yuuri to join him, the covers up to his ribcage. _Perhaps that last comment went a bit too far._ When Yuuri emerges from the bathroom, he looks uncertain, but climbs into bed anyway. Does this mean they’re not fighting? Victor has no idea. The doting husband part of him wants Yuuri to be okay, while the athlete reminds him that the real training begins tomorrow and they need to rest. He continues reading, hoping Yuuri will give him the cue for how to act.

“Thank you for taking me shopping today. I really like the new clothes, especially the coat.”

“It’s my pleasure. I hope to do it again soon.” Victor sets his book and glasses on the nightstand and turns to face Yuuri. “I’m sorry about my comment over dessert. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve figured out now that’s just how you are. And I don’t want you to change.” Yuuri takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’m just not ready. I do want to… be that way with you, I mean. Just not yet.”

“Take all the time you need, _solntse_.” He leans over and kisses the side of Yuuri’s head, enjoying the tickle of Yuuri’s hair against his nose and feeling the flood of relief. His husband does want him.

Yuuri smiles and kisses Victor on the cheek in return.

“Thank you, Victor. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Yuuri.” Victor drifts into sleep, happily unable to decide which side of Yuuri he loves more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Victor would look hot with glasses. After writing this, I found exactly what was in my head: <https://www.zerochan.net/2413718>


	3. Nationals

It’s a cold, overcast morning. The familiar cry of seagulls brings Yuuri’s mind back to Hasetsu as he jogs through his new neighborhood, Makkachin by his side, listening to an audio course on beginner’s Russian. He chides himself for breaking focus. If he’s going to spend the next few months here, he should learn more than just the basic phrases as soon as possible. Maybe he’ll even ask Victor to practice with him at home. _This is home, for now._

He doesn’t have to be at the rink for a couple more hours, but his nerves are already getting the better of him. It’s the first day of real practice and he’s doing all he can to train outside the rink. Going in early means going in during Victor’s ice time. It means risking distracting the 5-time Grand Prix Champion, the 4-time World Champion, and the reigning Olympic Champion. And possibly getting on Yakov’s bad side.

Despite the risks, Yuuri’s growing anxiety compels him to head for the rink, hoping to go unnoticed by sticking to the off-ice facilities. He enters quietly and to his relief, slips into the locker room without issue. Just being close to the ice calms him down and he already feels better by the time he’s done changing.

His relief is cut short when he enters the weight room. A single green eye, blonde hair obscuring the other, glares back at him. Yuri Plisetsky.

“Just because Victor married you doesn’t mean you belong here. And don’t expect it to last, either. Maybe it seemed good long distance, but I’ve never seen him stay interested in anyone for more than a couple of weeks. What does he even see in you?”

Normally a comment like that would hurt, but Yuuri just stands his ground, secure in his fake marriage. He even surprises himself at his smug reply, “I don’t really get the whole picture, so you should just ask him yourself.”

The kitten merely grunts and stomps away. Yuuri smiles, victorious against the Russian Punk, the sanctuary of an empty weight room as his prize.

When it’s finally Yuuri’s turn on the ice, Victor doesn’t hold back. He takes his coaching duties seriously and makes true on his promise to not go easy on the Japanese skater. The experience is surreal, more like having a god around than a coach. And that coach is Victor Nikiforov himself. Victor fucking Nikiforov. As his coach. It’s almost as absurd as Victor Nikiforov as his husband.

Given the short window before Nationals, they agreed with Celestino to focus on rebuilding Yuuri’s confidence in his jumps. The sixth-place Finalist looks on in awe and admiration as, at his insistence, Victor demonstrates an effortless quad Salchow. When it’s his own turn to try, Yuuri manages to land one out of five cleanly, about his average. Since he’s never landed one in competition, Victor suggests taking it out of his programs entirely.

“You don’t need it for a domestic competition, and it will allow you to skate a clean program. You need that confidence back. Let’s look at modifying your jump composition. I’m sure we can squeeze out a few more points somewhere else to compensate.”

Yuuri’s not happy about lowering his difficulty—it’s like admitting failure. But he just doesn’t have it in himself to argue. He knows that Victor is right, that Celestino would say the same thing. It just means he has to nail his other jumps.

He does. As they move on to quad toes and the triple axels, Yuuri shines, nailing one after another, relentless in his mission to prove his worth.

“Wow, Yuuri, we really need to do something with all that stamina,” Victor winks, before continuing in all seriousness, “Maybe we can push more of your jumps back to the second half in your free.” Flustered at the praise and humbled by Victor’s sincerity, Yuuri simply nods.

During the last run-through of his step sequence, Yuuri realizes that Victor had stopped giving feedback some time ago. He glances toward his coach, wondering if something’s wrong. _Oh._ Victor’s eyes are glued to him.

“Yuuri! Why did you stop?”

“Is something wrong with my posture or any of my positions? I noticed you were uh, looking at my butt at a lot but haven’t said anything. Is there something I should correct before we record a video for —”

“Oh, no. It’s great. I’m just admiring,” the coach replies, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Victor!” Yuuri groans, both flattered and embarrassed.

—

A handful of moving boxes greets the pair at their door when they return from practice.

“Oh, these must be your things from Detroit. I wonder when the rest will come?”

Yuuri carefully checks over the stack, not seeing how his belongings could possibly take up any more boxes and concludes, “This is probably all of it.”

“Really?!”

Once they’ve gotten the boxes inside, Victor takes Makkachin out while Yuuri begins unpacking. Clothes go over here and everything else goes over there. He smiles sadly while looking through photos, books, and various trinkets that remind him of his room in Detroit. _Did I do the right thing leaving my whole life behind?_

“Yuuri, what’s that?” Victor points to an art tube, having sprawled across the couch after returning from the walk.

“Nothing!” Yuuri yelps, perhaps a bit too defensively. It’s his collection of Victor posters. His second collection. The first is still up on his walls in his childhood bedroom in Hasetsu. “Just some artwork I’ve collected over the years.”

“Oh, can I see?”

“No! They’re, uh, delicate posters. They’re not meant to be displayed again. I just kept them for sentimental reasons.” Yuuri hopes he’s made a good enough case.

“Okay, then. Are these all your clothes?”

Before Yuuri has a chance to answer, Victor starts rummaging through the neat stacks, creating new, messy piles.

“What are you doing?”

“Assessing. Hmm… yes, I’m going to buy you a whole new wardrobe!” Victor proudly declares.

“That’s not really necessary. Besides, I like my clothes.”

“But you’re my husband now and I want to show you off. Please?” Victor pouts as his eyes grow wide and begin to water. Yuuri silently admits that he likes the clothes Victor bought for him, even if he’d never allow himself to spend that much. _I guess if it makes him happy._

“Fine, but I have to agree to whatever you choose. And you can’t get rid of any of my current clothes without asking.”

“Deal.” Victor plops down and wraps his arms around Yuuri, nuzzling his neck. Just 48 hours ago, Yuuri would have squirmed and tried to pull away in an attempt to hide from the mix of confusion and mortification. But now, he doesn’t squirm or pull away—he doesn’t even sigh or roll his eyes. He allows himself to relax into the embrace. When did he start feeling comfortable in Victor’s arms?

“Ah ha! Stay there for a sec.” Victor scrambles off and sprints to the bedroom, leaving Yuuri wondering if he did something wrong. He returns moments later with pale blue fabric crumpled in his hands.

“Let’s start by burning this necktie.” Victor reveals the tie Yuuri wore at the Grand Prix Final banquet the night they got married.

“No.”

“But Yuuri!” Victor's dramatic whine lifts the weight over Yuuri's heart and allows him to laugh, to enjoy having the upper hand over his pouty husband in this ridiculous spectacle. 

—

Yuuri offers to wash dishes after dinner while Victor puts away the leftovers. He’s used to splitting chores with Phichit, but somehow this feels different, warmer. A playful hip bump from Victor as he passes from the counter to the fridge brings a bright blush to Yuuri’s cheeks. He almost drops a glass in the sink, but scrambles in time to save it.

Finally done, they settle into the couch to rest their bodies for evening, exhausted from the day. There’s no way they’re going to make it back to the rink tonight for additional practice. Adjusting to a new routine is tough. Adjusting to a new routine, a new home, and a new relationship, just days before a competition, is out right arduous. Yuuri wants nothing more than to melt into the couch and not use his brain until it’s time for bed. But he knows they’re not done yet. In an hour, they’ll still need to review videos from the day’s practice with Celestino.

As Yuuri pulls his laptop from the coffee table to the couch, his phone dings from across the room. Not even a second later, so does Victor’s.

“It’s Lena. She says to check our email. ‘I have a social media update and some sponsorship opportunities for you to review,’” Victor informs him, putting down his phone. “Shall we?”

Victor snuggles in close next to Yuuri so he can see the screen. At least that’s the reason Yuuri gives himself as he scans the first part of the email, the social media update. Lena gushes about Yuuri’s photo in the car, the pairs skating video Mila posted, and all the press from last night’s dinner date. It’s strange to see his life made public this way. Phichit used to post photos, too, but Yuuri stayed oblivious of the likes and comments. Here, Lena has stats and quotes, it’s all dissected. All because he’s part of Team Nikiforov. 

“Yuuri, Yuuri! Look! We have our own hashtag #victuuri! It’s our names put together, get it? Like a celebrity couple name. And it sounds like victory. We’re adorable!” Victor’s childlike enthusiasm radiates, his eyes sparkling as he boops Yuuri’s nose. _Our own what?_

Yuuri just furrows his brows and continues reading. Lena compiled a list of recommended sponsorship opportunities for them to consider, complete with details about the commitment and compensation, along with a stern request to reply with their top choices. Yuuri begins to dutifully read through the options, each more bewildering than the last, failing to notice that Victor has leaned back, no longer reading along with him.

“Wow, some of these options—underwear, fragrance—why would they even want us to endorse these products?”

“We’re sex symbols, Or lifestyle symbols, if you prefer. Nothing more. They just want us for the image. They don’t care about our sport, our art, what we’re really like as people, what we value. It’s always the same song and dance. I’ve done this a million times. Just pick whichever one you want.”

The stunning bitterness and dismissal makes Yuuri reconsider the offers altogether. “I had no idea you felt like this. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m not exactly comfortable with it myself.”

“No, we should. Besides, it’ll be good for you to get the exposure. You need to start getting used to being in the public eye. The world deserves to know how talented you are. Pick whichever one you mind the least. I agree to whatever it is.”

They lock eyes, brown searching blue for proof behind the words. Convinced that Victor is being genuine, Yuuri returns to the screen to continue reviewing the options, eyes widening at one of the choices. He shakes his head and reads it again, just to be sure.

“Victor, this one!” Yuuri grins, bashful at his own enthusiasm, as he points to Pocari Sweat, a popular Japanese sports drink. Victor reads it over and hugs Yuuri in agreement.

“Wow! It’s perfect for your fan base, and one of the few options here related to sport. Plus it’s been ages since I’ve done work for the Asian market. Yuuri! I’m actually looking forward to this!” Victor’s excitement is contagious. _I’m glad this means you’re not just doing it for me._

They reply to Lena and hear back within a couple of minutes. She thanks them for the quick response and says she’ll get to work negotiating the details. Yuuri’s shocked when he realizes he’ll earn enough to never have to worry about coaching fees again. Ever. _How is this my life now?_ He’s always been thankful for his contract with Mizuno through the JSF, but he’s never dreamed of an opportunity like this.

The exhaustion of the day is the only thing that allows Yuuri to fall asleep after Victor sneaks a kiss to his cheek and whispers, “Good night, _solntse._ I’m glad you didn’t pick the underwear one. I want you for my eyes only.”

—

The week goes by in a blur as the athletes fall into a natural rhythm of training, practicing Russian, and occasionally dodging paparazzi.

Lena schedules the shoot for the Pocari Sweat commercial right after Japanese Nationals. Victor will fly in to join Yuuri immediately after Russian Nationals. There’s really no ideal timing during competition season, but at least this way one of them will already be in the right location. She negotiates a handsome bonus for them both if they medal.

Suitcase open in front of him, Yuuri begins to pack. It’s always strange going back to his home country without actually visiting his home. Where is home anyway? Is it here in Saint Petersburg with Victor? Yuuri admires the sparkle of his costumes as he folds them for travel, remembering the disaster of the Grand Prix Final just weeks before. But this time will be better. It has to be. Especially since Yuuri agreed to Victor’s crazy suggestion to change the jump composition in the short program to include a quad toe-triple toe combo at the end.

The lonely phone on the nightstand flashing with media alerts reminds Yuuri that he owes Phichit an update.

“Yuuri! It’s been a while. How’s Victor treating you?”

“Sorry. It’s been so busy. Victor’s been wearing me out every day at practice.”

“Oh, I’ll bet!” Yuuri can practically hear the smirk.

He groans in response. “It’s not like that. We haven’t actually done anything.”

“No? Why not? What happened to all your wild fantasies about the great Victor Nikiforov? You can’t miss this opportunity.”

“I know. Believe me, I want to. But it’s Victor in person, not Victor in my head. It’s completely different. And we live together. It’s not like my typical drunken one night stands where I won’t have to face him again. I just need more time to process it all.” He pauses. “Besides, he’s not pressuring me. Although he’s made it clear he’s interested.”

“Of course he’s interested. I told you, he genuinely wants to be with you. But wow, who would have thought? Yuuri Katsuki making Victor Nikiforov wait for sex.” What starts as a giggle turns into a full-on laugh.

“Whatever. He’s actually different from his public persona. He’s sweet and patient, and a bit of a goofball.” Yuuri can’t believe what he’s about to say, “I kind of wish this marriage were real.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit whines. “Don’t you see? It can be real, if you let it. Just give him a chance to love on you.”

“He’s probably like this with all his relationships,” Yuuri sighs, refusing to allow himself to believe this can be anything more than a temporary arrangement. Even the Russian Punk warned him, _I’ve never seen him stay interested in anyone for more than a couple of weeks_.

“Fine, then. At least hurry up and start fucking him so you can make the most of your time together.”

“Okay, okay. I love you, too.”

—

Yuuri stares blankly out the oval window next to his seat, an hour into the second leg of his flight to Japan. The heat of Victor’s heavy breath near his ear as they said their goodbyes still lingers. “I can’t wait to kiss your gold medal,” Victor murmured before pulling out of their hug.

It wasn’t exactly the most suggestive thing Victor had said or done in their time together, but for some reason it went right to Yuuri’s gut and never left. Even now, he can’t shake the feeling of everything that statement implies. What if he does poorly? Will everyone say he’s not good enough to be with Victor? How will that reflect on Victor as a coach? Or what if he was a distraction to Victor’s training after all, and Victor doesn’t win gold? Will everyone blame him?

Yuuri remembers how Victor held him that first day when he broke down after seeing Makkachin and longs to be held that way again. He wishes now that he didn’t insist that they limit their communication during the competition. It makes sense given their schedules and difference in time zones—they both need focus and rest. And yet nothing makes sense.

—

“Married life really suits you,” Celestino claps Yuuri on the back as they return to the hotel after practice. “I’ve never seen you land your jumps so consistently. When Victor first suggested that quad-triple at the end, I was worried how you’d handle it. I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Thanks, Celestino. Meet back in the lobby at six for dinner?”

“Yes. Now go get some rest.”

Stepping out of the shower, Yuuri plops on the bed, towel still around his waist. Without Victor to shy away from, he sprawls to his heart’s content, but finds it lonely. Coaching with Celestino is nothing like coaching with Victor, who seems to be able to bring out a side of Yuuri that Celestino never could. A side that’s terrifying, yet exciting, that makes Yuuri dare to believe in a future where he can become more than he is now. Yearning for some semblance of contact, he finds himself reaching for his phone and doing a quick time zone check.

 **Yuuri:** Good luck to both of us tomorrow.

 **Victor:** I can’t wait to kiss your gold medal. <3

But what if Yuuri doesn’t win gold? Victor will be disappointed. He’ll finally understand that Yuuri’s just a failure. That his catastrophic Grand Prix Final performance really is the best he can do. That it was just a fluke he made it into the Final at all. That he doesn’t deserve to have the living legend as a coach, as a husband, not even as a one night stand.

“Stop!” Yuuri shouts into the empty room, clutching the sides of his head. “Please, stop.” Desperation hangs heavy in the air as the walls close in. It’s starting.

Yuuri retreats to the shower, dropping his towel, his breaths ragged, and allows the tears to flow freely. Sobs of frustration echo in the small room, only slightly muffled by the sudden burst of water. Why won’t it stop? Yuuri answers himself with a bitter laugh—he knows why—and sinks to his knees on the tile floor, face down, acknowledging the steady sensation of hot droplets on the back of his head, assaulting his scalp like dull needles. The tears continue to fall as his entire body shudders from the relentless, invasive thoughts that play over and over again in his mind.

His years of training are for nothing. He messed up at the Grand Prix Final. Yuri Plisetsky is right. He should just retire. But what does he do instead? He monopolizes Victor Nikiforov, puts his idol’s career on the line for his own selfish desires, and for what? He’s not going to win Nationals. If skates like he did at the Final, he won’t even medal. He’ll be a disappointment to his family, to all of Japan. But maybe that will be grounds for divorce. That’s right, nobody will look down on Victor for divorcing a failure. Of course, he can provide Victor with an early out. It’ll be the least he can do.

The thoughts continue to race and rage inside Yuuri’s mind until the sobs slow and his throat becomes hoarse. Eventually, the tears run dry and his body, already aching from the tension, squeezes out every thought, every ounce of emotion, leaving his mind quiet and returning his breathing to normal. With nothing left, he stands up, turns off the water and proceeds to get ready, his eyes dull and his motions mechanical. As he leaves his hotel room, he nods at his reflection in the mirror. Time to put on a show.

“Yuuri!!!” It’s the only warning he gets before falling victim to the tackling of two women upon entering the lobby.

“Minako-sensei! Mari-neechan! It’s good to see you.” His genuine happiness at seeing them is tempered by fear of the upcoming scolding.

“You couldn’t have introduced me to him? I was literally there with you at the Final, Yuuri!” Ah, there it is. At least Minako-sensei had flown back before the banquet because there is no way Yuuri would be able to explain not inviting her to the wedding, elopement or not.

“So, when will we get to meet him?” Mari saves him from having to answer.

“Hey, now! I thought you’re here for me?”

Both his former ballet teacher and his older sister just roll their eyes at him. His attempt to change the subject failed.

“You know that mom and dad are happy if you’re happy. But you really should make an effort to bring him by. They’ve supported you all these years. The least you can do is introduce them to their son-in-law. You’ll already be in Tokyo for Worlds. And then it’s the off-season. There’s no excuse.”

“Assuming I get picked to go to Worlds.”

“Of course you’ll get picked. Besides, as if you’d let Victor go alone.”

 _Crap. Can’t argue that logic._ “You’re right. I’ll talk to Victor about coming to visit after Worlds. But tell mom no wedding ceremony.” He hates that he’s lying, but also doesn’t dare mention that Victor will be here in person in a few days.

“Ladies!” Celestino approaches the group and offers an elbow to Minako. She takes it as the four of them walk to dinner.

“You have to tell us everything,” Yuuri’s former ballet teacher starts the inevitable conversation once they’ve been seated.

“Not everything!” Mari and Celestino respond in unison, frantically waving their hands in an attempt to ask Yuuri to stay quiet. As if there’s anything to tell.

“Well, uh, we met at Skate America. We really hit it off, and just kept talking after that.”

“Hit it off? The press release said you were already planning on getting married,” Mari deadpans. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Well, uh, we hadn’t picked a date or anything. It was all hypothetical really. The press release made it seem more official than it really was.”

“Ok, ok, let’s back up. How did you meet? He wasn’t even skating there,” Minako insists on getting her story.

“Well, it was funny actually. So he was there with Yakov’s team. It was after the medals ceremony. I, uh, wanted to congratulate Georgi and when I found him, Victor was standing right there. I knew he was spectating, but I somehow didn’t expect to run into him. Anyway, I figured it was my chance to talk to him, but then Victor mistook me for a fan and asked if I wanted a photo with him—“

“He what?!” Minako’s eyes are wide in disbelief.

“Well, I was already changed, medal tucked away, wearing my glasses. I must not have looked like a competitor.” Yuuri shrugs nervously. “Anyway, isn’t that funny?”

Yuuri carefully watches as Celestino’s eyes narrow, but thankfully the coach stays silent.

“That’s not a mistake, Yuuri! You’re definitely a fan!” Mari laughs.

“So then what happened?”

“Georgi stepped in and cleared it all up. Victor felt bad and invited me to dinner as an apology.”Yuuri’s gut wrenches from including Georgi in the lie, but what are the chances any of them will talk to the dramatic Russian even if they see him?

After a few more questions and a few more lies, the conversation finally shifts. And Yuuri relaxes at last. He can finally just enjoy his time with Mari and Minako.

“Yuuri? Want to tell me what really happened after the Final when Victor offered a photo and you walked away from him? It sounds suspiciously like the story you told your ballet teacher and sister this evening,” Celestino prods once they’re alone.

“Oh, that.” _Crap._ “We, uh… He was trying to be cute by reenacting out first meeting, since we hadn’t told anyone yet we were together, but I was too devastated to handle it.”

“Ha! Sounds about right!” Celestino’s bright grin of approval tells Yuuri all he needs to know that his coach bought the story. He supposes that Victor _could have_ been trying to be cute and sleeps well that night, at ease that he’s done lying. He dreams of Victor watching his programs at Skate America, those blue eyes focused solely on him in admiration.

—

The glow of a laptop screen cradled in Yuuri’s lap illuminates the dark hotel room as he watches Victor’s performance via livestream, trying to calm his nerves about the following day. Earlier that evening, to nobody’s surprise except his own, Yuuri finished first after his short program, the change in jump composition having done its job in both boosting confidence and earning points. But that’s not enough to feel good about tomorrow. Yuuri needs to make sure Victor also does well, to reassure himself that he hasn’t been a distraction. Not that he needs an excuse to watch Victor skate. He always loves watching Victor skate.

When the Men’s short program is over and Victor is in first with a comfortable lead, Yuuri sighs in relief before falling back into the pillows. He falls asleep thumbing his ring, wishing for a warm body next to him, and wakes up the next day determined to prove himself worthy of his husband.

Like the previous day, Yuuri is hyper-focused during his warm-up, oblivious to the effect he has on other skaters. A much younger skater, fresh out of juniors, with a streak of red in his wild blonde hair follows Yuuri’s every move. Minami Kenjiro from Fukuoka. When their eyes meet, Minami freezes in place, furiously blushing but refusing to look away. Yuuri merely shrugs and skates away leaving the younger skater in fan-boy tears.

Yuuri’s free skate is everything it should have been at the Grand Prix Final. Strong, expressive, and above all, clean. Yuuri lands every single jump and makes it look easy. As he sits in the kiss and cry to get his score, he can’t help wish that Victor were here to see his performance. It’s a personal best, even without the quad Salchow.

Stepping off the ice after the medal ceremony, gold around his neck, Yuuri lets Celestino guide him away to the press conference starting shortly.

“Here’s your phone. I’m guessing Victor watched the live stream,” the coach explains.

“What?! No, no, no. He needs to be practicing for his own skate.” _Oh, no, I am a distraction._

“Yuuri. Your husband is an experienced athlete. He can make his own decisions.”

“But…” Yuuri trails off when he sees the influx of messages on his phone.

**Victor:** Congratulations! <3 <3  
**Victor:** I can’t wait to kiss your gold medal! )))  
**Victor:** We need to make a spot in the skating room for your medals, too!  
**Victor:** Wait. Where are they? I don’t remember seeing them in your boxes from Detroit.  
**Victor:** Anyway, here’s a photo of Makkachin from the day you left. )))) 

There are half a dozen more messages that cause Yuuri chuckle. His husband can be such a goofball.

**Yuuri:** Thank you.  
**Yuuri:** But shouldn’t you be practicing? I want to kiss your gold medal, too. 

_And you._ ****

**Yuuri:** I’ll be watching the livestream. Good luck!

 **Victor:** <3 <3

The press conference questions are thinly-veiled attempts to learn more about Yuuri’s relationship with Victor.

“Katsuki-kun, we understand that your husband, Victor Nikiforov, has been acting as an assistant coach since you’ve moved with him to Saint Petersburg. He seems to have had a tremendous amount of influence on your skating in a short time. Can you tell us more about that?”

“Victor has always been an influence on my skating from the time I started competing. It’s a privilege having him by my side in the rink every day. I’m sure he would inspire any skater.”

“Will your student-coach relationship continue as you train for Worlds? Won’t it become a conflict of interest?”

“Victor will stay on as my assistant coach for the rest of the season. We are both experienced athletes and would not be satisfied if either of us performed at anything less than our best.”

“Will you continue to live and train in Saint Petersburg after this season? Or will you consider returning to Detroit or even back to Japan?”

“Uh… No comment.”

* * *

The livestream of the All-Japan press conference doesn’t have subtitles, but Victor recognizes his own name several times. He wonders what they’re asking about him, and what Yuuri is answering. And then he distinctly hears _Saint Petersburg_ and _Detroit_ in the same string of words. The question is obvious. As is Yuuri’s brief reply. _Through Worlds_ once again rings in Victor’s mind _._

When it’s finally Victor’s turn to skate, he glances at his phone one last time before taking the ice.

 **My Yuuri:** I’ll be watching the livestream. Good luck!

This skate is for Yuuri. In fact, Stammi Vicino has always been for Yuuri, Victor mesmerized from the first time he saw Yuuri skate. He glides into his starting position and brings his right hand up to his lips, kissing his ring before the first notes begin to play. A hush falls over the audience as they watch the haunting beauty before them unfold. Yuuri, _stay close to me_ , Victor begs with his performance. _I’m afraid of losing you. Let’s not end it after Worlds._

Even Yakov seems pleased as they sit in the kiss and cry. Victor managed to surprise the audience once more, earning him a season’s best and another gold medal. He kisses it for the photos, but his eyes are dull, his mind elsewhere. He’s counting down his obligations.

 **My Yuuri:** You were stunning out there. Congratulations.

 **Victor:** It was for you. I miss you.

“Your free skate was especially beautiful today. Did you think about Yuuri Katsuki while skating?”

“How do you balance being both a coach and competitor?”

“Yuuri won gold at his Nationals earlier today. That means you’ll both be competing against each other at Worlds. What impact will that have on how you train together?”

For the first time, Victor finds the press exhausting. Thankfully, his years of experience grant him the strength to slap on a smile and make it through. Just a couple more days.

—

Victor’s flushed face beams as he waves to cheering fans at the end of his demanding exhibition skate. He’s done. He can finally go to Yuuri.

“I expect to see video of your practices. Don’t make me go through Katsuki to get them,” Yakov yells after him. Victor simply waves in acknowledgement from the cab. Yakov is going to be so pissed. But when has that ever stopped Victor from doing what he wants? Besides, this is for Yuuri, and Victor would do anything for Yuuri, or so he tells himself. If he were being truly honest, however, he’d admit that he’s equally doing this for himself.

The airport is quiet. It’s late. There’s no press. Only a handful of people even know that Victor’s traveling right now and it feels absolutely freeing, like there are new possibilities opening up right in front of him. And there are. So what if he’s traveling alone on his birthday? He going to see his Yuuri. Besides, he usually spends his birthday alone anyway.

Victor over-indulges on champagne during the flight, prematurely celebrating his own brilliance. Yuuri is going to be so happy! Some time after the third glass, however, he realizes that Yuuri’s never held him, that Victor has always been the one wrapping himself around Yuuri, never receiving an embrace in return. The public dinner where Yuuri put his arm around his waist doesn’t count, of course, because it was just for show. Yakov’s words spring to mind again, _Do you think he’ll be just as happy?_

Of course, Yuuri will be happy. But just in case, Victor resolves to hold back, to not make Yuuri uncomfortable, as he steps into the arrivals area.

“Victor!” He hears Yuuri’s voice and before he can find the source, a weight pummels into his chest. He feels arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. Awestruck, Victor simply returns the hug and breathes into the familiar, messy hair.

“I missed you,” his husband is barely audible, mumbling into his coat.

Victor kisses Yuuri’s forehead in reply, melting into their embrace. He had nothing to worry about after all. Good. Yuuri will definitely love the surprise. 

A quick shower and change of clothes later, the pair meets Celestino for dinner. After shaking hands and exchanging greetings, the older coach gets right to it.

“Victor, congratulations on your success this weekend. Two gold medals.”

“Two?” Yuuri looks confused.

“As a coach, Victor also gets credit for your success, Yuuri. You know that. In fact, I’d say he had more to do with this one than me. I’ve never seen you skate so cleanly. And after everything that happened…” Celestino politely trails off.

When Victor first ran his idea past Celestino, in the time between medalling and the exhibition, he anticipated rejection. But after years of training under Yakov, that prospect didn’t phase him. He was prepared to find a way. To his surprise, the older coach was receptive. And Victor loves surprises.

Celestino clears his throat before continuing, “Yuuri, it’s obvious I’m not providing much value to you right now. We both know you’ve needed a change for a while, but you haven’t had the confidence to look for it. And now that you have it, it seems to be working remarkably well.”

The look of panic on Yuuri’s face makes Victor’s heart sink, so he reaches for the trembling hand under the table to provide the grounding his husband desperately needs. That maybe he needs, too.

“I don’t understand. Are you breaking our contract? In the middle of a season?” Victor understands Yuuri’s fear. It’s almost unheard of to leave a coach in the middle of a season, even less so for a coach to leave a student.

“Yuuri, starting today, _I’m_ your coach!” Victor declares, wrapping himself around his comatose Yuuri, nuzzling his shoulder. “Are you okay with that?” _Please say yes._

“I, uh… Victor, are you sure? I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“And I already told you that you’re not. You’re my inspiration, _solntse._ ”

Yuuri thinks for a few painfully long moments before replying, “Thank you, Celestino for all the support you’ve given me all these years. I’ll continue to make you proud.” He bows in respect.

“Yuuri, it was truly an honor having you as a student. Victor, keep challenging him and he’ll rise to the occasion. I leave him in your hands.” Victor beams with pride as he shakes hands with the former coach. “Victor, it won’t be easy being both a competitor and a coach, but if anyone in the skating world can do something so crazy and make it work, it’s you.”

After dinner, Victor can barely keep his eyes open as they enter their hotel room. He understands the weight of what happened at dinner, but the prospect of sleep is too inviting to resist, his body exhausted from travel and ready to give out. He crawls under the welcome covers, prepared to keep to his side of the bed when Yuuri snuggles up next to him, kisses his shoulder, and lays an arm across his chest. How does Yuuri keep managing to surprise him? They fall asleep in each other’s arms, Victor having forgotten to kiss Yuuri’s gold medal.

* * *

For once, Yuuri wakes up first and is grateful for a moment of quiet reflection, taking the time to admire Victor’s deceptively angelic face. Because who knows what tortures are in store for him once they return to training? He studies both of their hands, the gold rings that shine even in the dim room. _Through Worlds._ So why does Yuuri keep cutting ties with his past, knowing how temporary this is? But at least he and Celestino parted on good terms. Hopefully he still has a rink and a coach to come back to when this whole adventure with Victor comes to an end.

Safely assuming Victor will continue his jet-lagged sleep for a while longer, Yuuri slips out of the room to go for a run.

He returns with tea and coffee, just cream no sugar, the aroma strong enough to bring Victor out of his slumber. Yuuri hasn’t really gotten to see Victor like this before, all messy hair and sleepy eyes. Beautiful. Should he kiss Victor now? He really wants to.

Instead, he greets him, “Good morning, sleepy-head. Would you like some coffee?”

“Hmm?” Victor beams as he sits up. Yuuri watches the legend stumble out of bed and allows himself to appreciate the perfect naked body before him. He hands his gorgeous husband the coffee and turns him around to face his suitcase so he can throw on some pants, some underwear, _something_. Meanwhile, he digs into his own suitcase for the case with his medal.

Track pants. Good enough.

“Umm, Victor?”

“Yes, Yuuri?” Victor turns around, smiling, waiting.

“Happy belated birthday. I’m sorry I couldn’t think of something better,” Yuuri looks down as he extends the case toward Victor, hoping he’ll take it, hoping it’s good enough. The audible gasp he receives fails to give him confirmation one way or another.

“Yuuri, is this your medal?” Victor pries open the case to reveal the gold disk and smiles widely. He gently takes the medal out, lifts it up to the light to see it shine, then slowly brings it back to his mouth, lips barely grazing, before closing his eyes and pressing his lips to it. Yuuri watches in fascination as Victor returns the medal, feeling the ribbon being placed over his head and the weight hitting his chest.

“Thank you. This is exactly what I wanted, the best gift anyone has ever given me. But I can’t accept it. It’s yours, you’ve worked too hard for it.”

“But…”

“But there is something else I want!” Victor happily chirps before Yuuri can argue. He then swiftly reaches into his bag to produce his own gold medal and has the audacity to ask in a sweet, innocent voice, “Kiss mine?”

Yuuri nods, expression stoic, his heart racing wildly. He carefully studies the medal, taking his time tracing his fingers over the design, feeling all the grooves. He then lifts it up, eyes fixed on Victor as he touches his lips to the gold, never breaking eye contact, wishing he were kissing the man instead of the medal. But this is as brave as he’ll be today. He trembles as he returns the medal to Victor, only to be pulled into a warm embrace.

—

  
The facility where they’ll be shooting the commercial is small compared to the competition arena, but the rink is full sized and well-maintained. It will do nicely. It’s theirs for the day and they busy themselves with lacing their skates for practice.

About an hour later, the producers arrive to review everything for tomorrow. Yuuri and Victor skate over to the barrier and throw on their skate guards to greet them.

“Katsuki-san, Nikiforov-san, thank you very much for being here, for taking time out of your competition schedule to film this commercial for us. We’re very honored to have Japan’s skating ace represent our product.”

“We’re happy to be here. It’s such a great opportunity for Yuuri.” Victor quickly chimes in when Yuuri hesitates to respond.

“Before we go into the specifics of tomorrow’s schedule, we’d like to discuss the concept and review the storyboard. We know you already saw it, but after both your performances at Nationals the last few days, we had an idea for a different direction. We hope you’ll consider it.”

As the producer describes the new concept and shows them the storyboard, Yuuri’s heart sinks. It’s completely different from what they agreed to do. It’s raw and personal and beautiful. But he doesn’t think he can do it.

“Please think about it. You can let us know what you decide in the morning.”

Yuuri skates aimlessly, the new concept weighing deeply on his mind, until Victor finally calls him off the ice to talk.

“I can’t re-live that failure and shame again,” Yuuri trembles. “The world already saw it once. I don’t need to show them again.”

“Yuuri, I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, you know that. But I think this could be really good for you. You’re not showing the world your failure, you’re showing them your strength. You’re Japan’s ace. People deserve to know the pain and sacrifice that go into achieving that. Your fans will love you more for it.”

Helping Victor was just the superficial reason Yuuri agreed to stay married. The true reason was selfish. It was to get away from his past life, to get a temporary reprieve from the pressures and failures he didn’t want to confront. But they’re still here. Perhaps there’s no escape, no fairy tale. And Yuuri’s tired of running, of pushing away his feelings.

He calls the producer that evening, “I’ll do it.”

Yuuri feels a sense of detachment during the shoot the following the day. He does as asked, giving his best. But he doesn’t connect with the story. Maybe it’s the camera crew. Or the grueling take after take. Or that Victor isn’t on the ice with him. Whatever the reason, it feels like going through the motions. He’s not sure why, but he expected to feel differently.

After the last shot wraps and the crew begins to tear down, the producers invite Victor and Yuuri to view the rough cut.

Yuuri is skating in a dimly-lit rink, wearing basic black practice clothes. The only sound is his blades scratching the ice. He enters the starting position for his short program and begins. After a few movements, the scene cuts to a beautiful and complex step sequence soon followed by a quad toe loop. Yuuri falls. He picks himself up and tries again. He falls again and again and again. Victor is in the background, reacting to Yuuri’s attempts with visible encouragement, urging him to keep going. And still the only sound is that of Yuuri’s skates. Yuuri stands hunched over, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his brow. He lifts his eyes, looks straight at the camera, and takes off again. This time he lands the jump beautifully, triumphantly. Victor cheers. When Yuuri approaches the barrier, Victor is standing there, smiling. He hands Yuuri a bottle of the sports drink. As Yuuri takes it, Victor wraps an arm around his shoulders in a half hug. In the background and out of focus lie two gold medals, their ribbons intertwined. The Pocari Sweat logo appears, followed by the line, “It’s how you get back up” and the tag, #lovewins.

Heavy droplets form in Yuuri’s eyes as he watches, the experience more cathartic than he ever expected. He wanted to feel something earlier during the taping, but this is so much more. As the tears stream down his face, he acknowledges to himself that Victor was right. He can feel the failure of the Grand Prix Final fading away, hope for the future appearing in its place.

There’s just one problem. #lovewins is a lie, isn’t it? Of course Yuuri loves Victor, has loved Victor since he was twelve. But Victor loving Yuuri? That’s not love. It can’t possibly be. Yuuri starts shifting in place, uncomfortable in his own skin. He glances at Victor to read his expression, but his husband and coach is all smiles, squeezing his shoulder as he confidently tells the producer, “It’s perfect.”


	4. Euros

“Ne, Victor, what are we doing tonight exactly?” Yuuri pulls on a blazer, the finishing touch of the outfit Victor chose for him for their New Year’s Eve celebration tonight. Victor immediately starts both praising and cursing himself for the selection. How will he keep his hands to himself with Yuuri looking like that?

They arrived back in Saint Petersburg with barely enough time to recover from the travel, let alone to properly plan a surprise. Luckily, Mila agreed to drag Yuuri and Makkachin out of the apartment for a few hours in the afternoon to give Victor a chance to fuss over preparations. With everything ready, Victor can barely contain his excitement as he also finishes getting dressed.

“It’s a surprise!”

Yuuri sighs. “Not even a hint?”

“I promise no press. How’s that?” Victor throws in a wink for good measure.

“That’s a good start, but how can you be sure?”

“Trust me.”

“I do.” The sincerity in those words takes Victor aback so much that he almost misses when Yuuri asks, “So, how do I look?”

Victor can’t help but whistle in reply as Yuuri turns to model, just like Victor insisted he do during their shopping trip. Only this time Yuuri’s doing it voluntarily. He’s changed since then, somehow. “You look amazing.”

Yuuri smiles as he eyes his husband, “So do you.”

“It’s too bad nobody will get to see us like this, though.” Victor teases, wondering if his blush is noticeable. He’d love nothing more than for Yuuri to check him out again. No, actually, he’d love for Yuuri to kiss him. Properly, on the mouth, with tongue and heat and force.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re staying in tonight, just us. I figured we’ve had enough excitement in the last two weeks.”

Yuuri visibly relaxes, “Really? Thank you.”

Victor grabs Yuuri’s hand and leads him to the combo living and dining room where the lights are off, scattered candles creating a warm, ambient glow. Two elegant settings with silver dome plate covers wait for them on the dining table as the notes of a slinky foxtrot play in the background.

“Wow. This is incredible. How did you manage to set it all up without me noticing?” Cherry-brown eyes sparkle. But unlike that shopping day, they sparkle while looking directly into Victor’s.

“I’m glad you like it.” Victor slides out Yuuri’s seat and motions for him to sit. After Yuuri does so, he leans down to whisper, “But I won't tell you in case I want to do it again.” Yuuri turns his head toward Victor in surprise, their lips almost touching. After an awkward pause, Victor uses every ounce of discipline to pull away and take his own seat across the table. He’ll wait until Yuuri is ready. He promised.

They take the first bites of their elegant meal. As Yuuri starts lavishing his husband with compliments, Victor unashamedly admits their meal is catered—he doesn’t have the culinary prowess to pull of something so refined. They share laughs, describing the limits of their cooking skills while lamenting about their strict diets. Victor can’t help but compare this meal to their room service breakfast that first morning. However in love he was with Yuuri then doesn’t compare to what he feels now. How did his feelings grow in such a short amount of time?

“My favorite dish is my mom’s katsudon. It’s a pork cutlet bowl with egg and rice. But because I gain weight easily, I was only allowed to have it after winning a competition. I really miss it.”

“But, Yuuri! You did win a competition. Why didn’t you say anything when we were in Japan?”

“Getting it at a restaurant somewhere wouldn’t be the same. Besides, I can make it myself. I just haven’t in a while because it’s never as good as my mom’s.”

“Could you make it tomorrow? If we find all the ingredients? I’d like a victory katsudon for my medal, too.” Victor’s bright heart-shaped smile pleads for agreement.

“Sure, if you think Yuri and Yakov will like it, too.” Victor enthusiastically nods as Yuuri pauses to think. “You know, I kept meaning to ask. Isn’t New Year’s supposed to be a family holiday in Russia? Why aren’t we going to visit yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious by now, _solntse_? My only family is Yakov, Makkachin,” he pauses, “And you.”

Yuuri falls silent. Was it really not obvious? After a moment, he gets up and offers a hand to Victor.

“Care to dance?”

Well, Victor certainly won’t turn down a chance to dance with Yuuri, especially knowing the moves he’s capable of. The playlist is all classic ballroom standards—slow waltzes, jazzy foxtrots, playful cha chas, and a few swing numbers thrown in for good measure. Yuuri leads Victor through all of them, their bodies moving as one.

It’s markedly different from their tipsy display at the banquet. Yuuri is in full control, completely aware of Victor’s position, balance, body shaping, and momentum, and leads the movements that best suit the moment, the music. It’s pure lead and follow unlike any Victor has ever experienced before, his body pliant, responding to Yuuri’s without effort. In more ways than just dancing.

The boom of fireworks outside brings them back to the present. It’s midnight. Champagne flutes in hand, they head for the bedroom to watch the spectacular flashes of color from the balcony, Victor’s arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist. When the display is over, Victor turns to Yuuri for a toast. He looks adorable, his face blistered red from the cold.

 _To us,_ Victor wants to say but hesitates, worrying how Yuuri will react. Instead he says, “Let’s get you inside.”

Having stepped off the balcony and back into the warmth of the bedroom, Yuuri raises his glass. “We haven’t toasted to the new year yet! Kanpai!”

“Kanpai!”

An air of uncertainty hangs in the room, their flutes now empty, as the two men face each other in near darkness, basked only in the pale, shapeless glimmer of the outside world. The moment is perfect to take a chance.

Victor snags Yuuri’s glass, setting it on the nightstand along with his own. He wordlessly guides them back into dance frame, drinking in every inch of his husband with each touch and adjustment. Gazing deep into Yuuri's sparkling eyes, the words are barely above a whisper as they leave his lips, “I’d like to continue dancing.”

“But there’s no music here.” The reply is equally soft, trailed by an expectant gulp.

“You make the music with your body, Yuuri. I’ll happily follow.” _Wherever you want to go._

They only make it through a few measures of a waltz before Victor breaks the hold, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist and pulling him close. When Yuuri doesn’t resist, he begins to lose himself in the warmth of their embrace, the scent of raven hair, and the breath coming from the oh-so-close lips.

He eventually pulls away to look directly at Yuuri, wondering if his husband has lost himself in their embrace, too. Yuuri flicks his eyes up to Victor’s, briefly meeting before looking back down. He blushes as he starts to look up again, but this time his gaze stops at Victor’s mouth.

Victor pauses, then slowly closes the distance between their lips for a tentative kiss. The first kiss they would both remember.

Yuuri closes his eyes and sighs into it. Victor deepens the kiss, sensually exploring Yuuri’s mouth. When Yuuri responds in kind, Victor becomes lost in the warmth, the taste, and the light tingle on his lips. As he pulls away to admire Yuuri’s delicate features, Yuuri makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Victor immediately grins, delighted at this unexpected eagerness. Yuuri sheepishly looks away.

“That, ah, was nice. Do you think that’s what it was like the night we got married?” Yuuri barely musters.

Victor can’t stand it. His Yuuri is such an adorable mess.

“Mmm. I’d say this is even better because we’re still sober. I’m actually glad we didn’t make love that first night, Yuuri. I want to remember our first time together.” _Even if you only want me through Worlds._

“Me, too.” It comes out as a whisper.

* * *

Yuuri is freaking out. _I just agreed to sleep with Victor. How can someone as inexperienced in dating as me satisfy the world’s hottest bachelor?_ Though technically, Victor’s no longer a bachelor. And he’s clearly very interested. Or maybe Victor thinks it’s just a perk of their arrangement?

Yuuri no longer cares. Enough champagne in his system or not, he’s fantasized about having Victor like this for years and is ready to take advantage of the opportunity. He pushes Victor down into the bed and straddles him, pinning the Russian down with a deep, hungry kiss.

Victor is just as hungry. He grabs Yuuri’s hips, pulling his husband down into his lap and begins to roll his own. Yuuri’s breathing quickens in response. Victor then flips their positions, Yuuri’s legs spread around him as he hovers above. He slowly kisses Yuuri’s neck, making a feather-soft trail from earlobe to collarbone.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Victor’s voice is raspy as he unbuttons Yuuri’s shirt, sending shivers through the younger man. It’s just like Yuuri’s fantasy.

Yuuri feels Victor’s hand make its way up his abdominals until the fingers find an aroused nub of flesh. _Oh my god._ Yuuri tenses up and Victor immediately stops, lifting his head up to look at Yuuri.

“Is this okay?”

Yuuri nods. “Yes. I—I’m just nervous. I know I’m not as experienced as your other partners.” _Crap. I just killed the moment._

“Don’t worry about that.” Victor leans in to gently suck on Yuuri’s lower lip but it does nothing to reassure him.

“We don’t have to. Keep going, that is, if you don’t want to.” _I’m sorry I’m not good enough._

“Oh, but I definitely want to.” Victor smiles in fiendish delight. _Oh!_

Victor keeps Yuuri’s mouth occupied with his own, preventing him from saying anything more about the matter. Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, tangling his fingers in that platinum hair, encouraging the Russian to continue his exploration. He feels the warm hand roam his chest and rewards Victor with small moans and whimpers. The moans become louder and needier and Yuuri can feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Victor proceeds to unbuckle his husband’s belt, revealing black boxer briefs which sit tight around toned, muscular thighs. He slips his hand under the waistband and pulls down to expose Yuuri’s throbbing arousal which completely betrays any protests the younger man might make. Assuming he were still able to form coherent words.

Yuuri is completely lost to the touch and gasps when he feels Victor palm him. Victor smirks and begins to stroke, nibbling at Yuuri’s exposed chest. It’s better than any of Yuuri’s fantasies.

Yuuri grasps the platinum hair, pulling Victor in for another kiss. He revels in the feeling of the hold. For a moment, he can pretend their lie is real, that Victor is his. He doesn’t notice as Victor pulls away from their kiss to whisper sweet nothings into his ear. All he feels is the heat of the moment and the sensation of Victor’s hand as it brings him to climax.

Yuuri sinks limp into the pillows. After a moment, Victor gently kisses Yuuri’s mouth and brushes the damp, stray hair out of this face. Definitely better than the fantasies.

“Are you still nervous, _solntse_?”

Yuuri hums, still a bit dazed, a lazy smile forming across his face. “But what about you?”

“Another time. Making you feel good was enough.”

Victor kisses Yuuri again before shifting to allow for easier cuddles. They proceed to lie in each other’s arms until Makkachin jumps into the bed, reminding them it’s time to get changed and ready for sleep.

—

The welcome sensation of cold, clean ice wafts all around, enveloping Yuuri in a soothing calm.

He savors the still beauty of the empty rink, a rare treat at his new home, as his blades strike the fresh surface, cutting into it like butter. It brings comfort to his soul and helps him process what happened last night. Victor was so tender with him. After all the flirting, after how long Yuuri made him wait, Victor was still tender and patient. Phichit told him that it might be possible that… No, Victor is just a good man who respects his partners. And Yuuri is just lucky to be the latest one in Victor’s line of lovers. Yet what a way to start the new year.

Yuuri rests at the barrier, sipping water, and enjoys watching Victor skate. Today, he’s not worried about distracting him from practice. There’s no Yakov, no Russian team, just the two of them losing themselves to the ice. Yuuri recognizes Victor’s stance—the starting position for his free skate—and a rare confidence sparks within him. Maybe it was last night, or maybe it’s the empty rink, but, before he knows it, he finds himself moving toward Victor.

One, two, three… as soon as Victor’s marked his third jump, Yuuri skates up to him, grabbing his hand. They skate together. Truly together. Something’s changed since their silly pairs skate that first day in the rink. They move more fluidly, they read each other’s bodies more clearly. It’s exhilarating. Is this what Victor meant that first morning? _It was exhilarating, the most fun I’ve had with anyone in years._ Yuuri abruptly lets go and skates forward as he shakes his head, willing the thought to leave.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?”

“Mmm. I just—it’s nothing.” He gives an unconvincing smile, mostly to himself.

Victor skates up from behind, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s slender waist and nuzzling his neck. “Would a kiss make it better?”

Yuuri turns, placing palms on Victor’s chest as he lifts his chin up in reply. His eyes are closed as he waits for Victor’s kiss. He’s not ready to accept the affection in the Russian’s eyes.

—

“Vitya, Yuuri, _s Novym Godom!_ You, too, Makkachin.” Yakov greets the trio at the door. After shoes and coats are put away, paws wiped, and Victor and Yuuri changed into house slippers, Yuuri proceeds back to the kitchen, where Yuri is already checking on his pirozhki. Victor and Yakov sit in the living room.

“Heard you won gold at your Nationals. Guess the old man helped you get your shit together after the Grand Prix Final.” _Is that a compliment?_

“Happy New Year to you, too, Yuri.”

Yuuri begins to unpack his ingredients and looks around the kitchen to familiarize himself with the layout. He notices Yuri staring at him and begins to explain nervously, “I’m going to cook katsudon, my favorite dish. It’s my mom’s recipe, but it won’t be as good as she makes it. It’s a pork cutlet bowl with egg and rice. Victor asked me to make it for all of us today.”

Something resembling interest twinkles in Yuri’s eye as he spits back, “Won’t be as good as my grandfather’s pirozhkis.” But the tone softens as he adds, “Well, I made these from his recipe. But next time I go to Moscow, I’ll bring some back and you’ll see.”

“I can’t wait to try them.”

Yuuri proceeds to prep, grateful that Yuri’s sitting quietly and merely observing. He’s still scared of the Russian Punk and doesn’t attempt to make small talk. Eventually, Victor pops into the kitchen and kisses Yuuri on the cheek before joining Yuri at the table.

“Gross. Show some professional courtesy.” Yuri practically gags.

“We’re not at the rink right now. We’re with family. Yakov takes care of us both, Yura. That makes us like brothers!” Victor’s triumphant smile grows as Yuri scowls.

“Take that back. I don’t want you as a brother. And I certainly don’t want him as a brother by extension,” Yuri points to Yuuri, who’s too busy tending to his recipe to be offended.

“Yura,” Yakov’s burly frame appears from behind. “Come help set the table.”

Eventually the table is set, the food is ready, and the small _family_ of four unrelated men plus one dog sits down to celebrate the new year. The katsudon is a hit with everyone, including Yuri, who wolfs it down without stopping to breathe.

When Victor first told Yuuri about their plans for New Year’s Day and the Russian tradition, he assured Yuuri that he and Yakov stopped exchanging gifts many years ago. But that’s not who Yuuri was concerned about. Deciding now to be a good time as any, he excuses himself from the table to grab something from one of the bags they brought. He returns to the table and extends a neatly wrapped gift to Yuri.

“It’s from Japan. We hope you like it.”

“This is from both of you? Why?”

“Well, Victor said we’re like brothers.” Yuuri smirks. He knows Yuri hates that but can’t help teasing anyway. Besides, after some time observing the teen, together with Victor’s stories, he has a feeling the gift will go over well.

Yuri groans but tears into the silvery blue package anyway. What he finds leaves him dumbstruck and glassy eyed. He hugs the black tiger face sweatshirt close to his chest and mumbles a soft, “Thanks.”

Yuuri and Victor turn to each other and smile knowing they did well. Yakov looks pleased, too. Makkachin sits patiently waiting for table scraps, tail thumping against the floor.

After the meal, while Victor and Yuri clean up, Yakov pulls Yuuri aside to another room. He wastes no time with niceties.

“I heard you’ve cut ties with Celestino Cialdini. I’m concerned about what this means for Victor.”

“I’m concerned, too. He was so eager to be my coach, I don’t think he thought it through. But the last thing I want is to distract him from his own training.”

“Has Victor told you how he’s been struggling with motivation?”

“He has?”

“He’s been happier and more focused since he started coaching you. Maybe it will continue to be good for him. I take it the two of you are getting along well, given the circumstances?”

“Yes, we are.” Yuuri hopes his face doesn’t reveal that they’re starting to move beyond keeping up appearances.

“I see. Tell me, why did you agree to the marriage in the first place? From what I understand, the coaching offer wasn’t a bribe. He only offered after you already agreed to stay married. So why? You could have easily said no and spared yourself the trouble. What’s in it for you?”

“Oh, well, you see, I’ve been a fan of Victor’s for a long time. He’s had a huge influence on my skating. He’s the reason I’ve made it as far as I have. So when he asked for my help, how could I refuse, after everything he’s done for me? I’m honored that he’s coaching me and I’m just happy to be close to him. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Hmm. Well, thanks to you he gave a great performance at Nationals. I haven’t seen such interpretation from him in a while.” Yakov pauses to sigh. “I believe you that you want what’s best for him. And that means you’ll continue to make sure that he puts as much into his own training as he does in yours. He doesn’t listen much to me, but it seems he listens to you.”

“Of course. I’ll do my best.” It’s an easy promise to make, one he already intended to keep on his own.

* * *

Victor admires the retreating figure heading for the bathroom to shower. He can’t keep his eyes off his husband, staring openly, not even pretending to read tonight.

“Makkachin! Do you love Yuuri?”

“Boof!”

“Me, too. I want him to stay with us. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

Makkachin licks Victor’s face in reply, and he hugs her close, excited that she agreed. Victor wonders what else Yuuri needs to feel comfortable, to want the marriage to be real as much as he does.

When Yuuri returns from the bathroom, Victor hugs the poodle again, this time to temper his desire to pounce. Yuuri’s wearing just his black boxer briefs and a towel draped across his shoulders to catch the water from his still wet hair, glistening beads forming across his slim but powerful frame. First the pair skating, now this? _Wow, Yuuri!_

“Thank you for today and last night. Your surprise was wonderful. I appreciate everything you’re doing to make feel at home here.”

“Oh? Everything?” Victor feigns innocence.

“I appreciated that part, too.” Yuuri chuckles uncomfortably.

“Yuuri, about that. Why were you worried about being experienced enough and comparing yourself to my past lovers? I don’t care about that.”

“I just—I thought that I wouldn’t know how to satisfy you the way they did.”

“But you already do. I’m happy when I’m with you, in a way I never have been with anyone else. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” _I want to stay married to you forever._

“But we didn’t even…”

“We will, when you’re ready. Besides, what about _your_ past lovers? Aren’t you worried how _I’ll_ compare?”

Yuuri gives an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Exactly! Now come here.” Victor pulls Yuuri in close for a snuggle, not minding the wet hair at all.

—

“Again!” Victor yells across the ice. Yuuri straightens his posture to run through his step sequence once more.

“Oy! Katsudon! There’s a delivery waiting for you.” Yura yells from across the rink.

Yuuri stops and turns in surprise, almost running into another skater. “But I didn’t order anything. Victor, can you get it? I’m not ready for a break yet.”

Victor frowns. Perhaps he didn’t think this through.

“Sure, just keep going. I’ll be right back.”

Time to improvise. Victor grabs the delivery and moves to a quiet corner to unbox the lavish bouquet of lavender roses.

He snaps a quick photo.

**v-nikiforov**  
[image: Victor smiling next to a bouquet of roses]  
1 month anniversary surprise for my @katsuki-y  
#married #lifeandlove #skatehusbands 

Phichit is the first to like it.

Victor’s about to head back when Georgi notices the flowers, “Are these for Yuuri?”

“Yes, it’s our anniversary.”

“Love at first sight, huh?” Georgi refers to the color of the roses. “How romantic.” Victor wonders if Yuuri will pick up on the significance.

“Actually, could you do me a favor?”

Victor hands Georgi his phone, pulls off off his skate guards, grabs the bouquet and proceeds to the ice. Everyone in the rink takes notice and clears out. Everyone, except Yuuri, who’s just coming out of a spin when he makes eye contact with Victor. And immediately stumbles.

“Victor! Why are carrying a giant bouquet? And out here on the ice?” Yuuri looks around. “Where did everyone go?”

“Happy anniversary, _solntse_.” Victor skates over, presenting the flowers and leans around them to kiss Yuuri on the cheek, who furiously blushes despite his face already being pink from the cold. Georgi records while the rest of their rink mates cheer and clap. Except for one.

“Hey, assholes! Quit being disgusting. We’re here to skate, not watch you two make out,” their angry younger brother yells, punctuating his sentiment with a gaging face.

—

When they get home, Victor makes haste to set the bouquet on the dining table, eyes twinkling and heart pounding. He intercepts Yuuri before he has a chance to turn to the bedroom. Yuuri immediately stills, allowing Victor to take his wrist and kiss the inside.

“There’s something else I want to show you.” Victor proudly leads Yuuri to the living room where a new photo frame sits in the bookcase. Inside is the photo from their wedding ceremony.

Yuuri gasps as he stares at the image.

“You didn’t want to look at photos before, but I should have shown you this one much sooner. Happy anniversary, Yuuri. This has been the best month of my life. Each day is a new surprise, and you’re here with me.”

Without warning, Yuuri’s mouth is on Victor’s, hot and needy. It’s more than the reaction Victor hoped for.

Yuuri pulls away only enough to whisper close into Victor’s ear, “Let me make you feel good.” Victor shudders at the warmth and the breathy tone before he feels a tongue on his earlobe. _Fuck._

Before he knows it, Victor is on his back on the bed wearing only his black bikini briefs, the hallway littered with a trail of discarded clothes. Yuuri towers over him, arms on either side of his head, pinning him down with nothing but an intense gaze. This is his shy, sweet Yuuri? No, this is the bold Yuuri from their dinner date. Victor’s heart quickens in anticipation, prepared to give over all control.

Yuuri’s eyes dart around the room, searching for something. Concerned, Victor sits up in an attempt to identify the distraction.

“What is it?”

“Uh… do we have… stuff?” Ah, the shy Yuuri is coming through.

With a relaxed smile, Victor reaches for his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube and two condoms, realizing too late that it was just out of habit and he doesn’t actually want to use them. Why should they? They’re married, and he’s clean. But they never talked about it, so he’ll go along with whatever makes Yuuri comfortable.

He doesn’t even get a chance to ask Yuuri if he’s sure he’s ready when a deep, forceful kiss causes Victor to drop the supplies on the bed and sink back into the pillows. Yuuri’s mouth tastes amazing, feels amazing, sending sparks through Victor’s entire body. He greedily responds, tangling his slender fingers in silky, raven hair.

All too soon, Yuuri pulls away, causing Victor to whine at the loss. He cracks open an eyelid, just enough to see Yuuri sitting back on his heels, his eyes searching again. Victor follows the wandering line of sight, the realization causing him to catch his breath and blush, just like that first night at the banquet. The love of his life is tracing his every curve. Silently and intently. For all the times Victor had tried to present himself, Yuuri’s never once looked at him this way. He smiles to himself and lets his lids fall closed. Yuuri can look at him as long as he wants.

Yuuri’s warm hands gently graze Victor’s outer thighs and slowly travel their way up to the shoulders, followed by tentative kisses and nibbles, ending in a passionate kiss on the mouth before retreating back. A couple of swift tugs free Victor from his briefs, and he lies completely exposed, legs spread in presentation. Victor smirks, expecting Yuuri to take his time to admire.

Yuuri does not. He instead reaches for the lube and fumbles a bit with the cap. Victor’s heart swells with emotion. How can one man be so sexy yet so innocent at the same time? His smirk turns into a goofy grin, which quickly turns into a gasp when he feels a soft kiss on his lips, followed by Yuuri’s fingers, slick with lube, outside his entrance. Yuuri works him open slowly, tenderly. His hand trembles ever so slightly, as if he’s afraid of hurting Victor.

Victor whimpers from the welcome sensation, opening his eyes to see a focused and concerned Yuuri looking back at him. This isn’t the bold Yuuri. No, it’s only now in this vulnerable position that Victor realizes how wrong he’s been, both at the dinner and now. Yuuri isn’t bold, he’s determined. He’s still shy and sweet, but is willing to put that aside and take a risk. He’s taking a chance for something he values more than playing it safe.

And that realization, that he is the one worth taking a risk for, only makes Victor weaker for Yuuri’s touch. He’s ready to give himself over completely, but the pace is agonizing.

“Please, Yuuri.”

He hears the disappointing sound of a condom wrapper being opened, but convinces himself that maybe Yuuri’s only using one out of respect for him. They really should talk about this—he feels Yuuri easing his way in—later. Victor relaxes, tilts his hips up, and wraps his legs around his husband, gasping in pleasure as he takes in Yuuri’s length. They’ll talk about the condoms later.

“Is… is this okay? Does it hurt?” Yuuri’s voice is full of worry.

“It’s good, you feel good.” Victor’s already breathless, unable to adequately describe the marvelous sensation. “You can go faster.”

Yuuri does. And Victor falls in love even more because Yuuri’s being methodical, slightly adjusting the angle with each thrust until—“There!”

Victor proceeds to completely lose it, swearing first in English, then Russian. Already close to the edge, he feels Yuuri’s hand wrap around his front, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts. He drowns in the pleasure. And then the release. _Amazing._

A few more thrusts and Victor feels Yuuri finish inside him. As he wearily gazes up, Victor decides Yuuri’s never looked more beautiful. Completely spent and ready for cuddles, he feels a peck on his lips before Yuuri withdraws to pad across the room for tissues, returning to gingerly clean up.

“I… I’m sorry.” Yuuri sits slightly away from Victor, his body language closed off.

“Huh?” Victor tries to catch those gorgeous, anxious eyes with his own.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t better.” _What?_

“Yuuri, _solntse_. Please look at me.” Yuuri hesitates, but eventually does. “It was wonderful, amazing.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” In fact, Victor can’t remember the last time he had such an attentive lover. He wraps Yuuri in his arms, softly kissing those full lips, while pulling the covers over them both. Victor is completely, helplessly in love with his husband, so much so that this night makes him forget their marriage is only temporary.

* * *

Yuuri can’t bring himself to look closely at their wedding photo. It’s just a reminder that their time together is dwindling. But it was the perfect trigger for Yuuri to finally take advantage of being with Victor in a way he only dreamed of as a teenager. And it scares him. How could he treat Victor this way, after all the inspiration throughout the years? And the kindness Victor showed him in the last month? Though it seems Victor enjoyed it because he was eager to have sex again. And they’ve had sex every day since. Spectacular sex, frankly.

But Yuuri dares not call it making love. Because he’s definitely not falling in love with Victor, the real Victor, and slowly out of love with the idol in his head. And he’s certainly not guarding his heart for when it’s time for them to split. He’s just making the most of the situation like he said he would. He’s claiming Victor as his own, while he can.

He needs to tell someone.

 **Yuuri:** Thought you might like an update. Victor and I are sleeping together now.

 **Phichit:** I’m so proud of you.  
**Phichit:** Is it everything you dreamed it would be?

 **Yuuri:** Yes, actually.  
**Yuuri:** I still can’t believe it.

 **Phichit:** Good. And you’re being safe? ****

 **Yuuri:** OMG. Phichit!

 **Phichit:** What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t ask?

 **Yuuri:** Fine.  
**Yuuri:** Yes, we’re being safe.

Yuuri made sure. During their second time, Victor suggested they didn’t need condoms since they’re married. He said he’s sure Yuuri’s clean—how could he be sure?—and even offered to dig up his own latest test results as proof back. But Yuuri’s panicked expression must have been enough to convince Victor to keep using condoms. Their marriage is only a technicality, after all, not a true commitment. Yuuri could never find the words to explain to himself, let alone to someone else, how much he needs that physical barrier to reinforce his own psychological boundary. ****

 **Phichit:** Good. You better not be too sexed out at 4CCs. I expect you on the podium.  
**Phichit:** Especially with all that coaching you claim you’re getting.

Yuuri smiles. He loves his best friend.

 **Yuuri:** You’d better be up there with me.

—

It’s far too early in the morning when Yuuri’s phone gets bombarded with calls and messages from friends and family. He shoots up from bed to quell the ringing beast, but it’s too late. Victor’s already awake, his own phone equally flooded.

“Oh, our commercial just aired in Japan!” Victor happily chirps, having figured out the source of the commotion first.

“Victor! It’s so early. Let’s go back to sleep.” Yuuri knew the commercial would air today, and he’s been trying to avoid it. Despite how proud he is, he’s still scared of the reactions people will have. Victor seems to have no such fears.

“Oh, look, look! Your fans are leaving comments full of sparkling hearts. I can’t read what they’re saying, but sparkling hearts are definitely good, right?”

Yuuri pulls the covers over his head. “Sleep, please.”

“Yuuuuurrriiii! How can you sleep at time like this? We have to celebrate! I’ll be right back!” Victor is half-way to the door.

“I’m not drinking champagne at four in the morning.”

“But—”

“No. We can celebrate tomorrow, when it’s our rest day. We both have to skate today. And you have European’s in less than a week. Right, Makkachin?”

“Boof!”

“Traitor.” Victor pouts, then glomps onto Yuuri in consolation.

—

Despite his initial concerns, the commercial does amazing things for Yuuri’s confidence. In the short window before the break for Euros, he starts landing his quad Salchow so consistently that Victor changes the overall jump composition in Yuuri’s free skate. They plan to refine the choreography, too, when they come back. Even so, with plenty of time before Four Continents, the program is already much stronger.

Lena is pleased for different reasons entirely. The commercial is a big hit with skating fans worldwide. The pair receives multiple inquiries for exclusive interviews, which they promise to consider after Euros to appease the publicist. But really, what further lies could they spin? Yuuri would rather not do them.

When Yuuri arrives at Euros with Victor and the rest of Yakov’s team, the press goes wild. It’s their first public appearance at a competition together as a couple. And unlike the media circus at the airport that first day, Yuuri is prepared. He walks next to Victor, confident, as an equal. This time, he wraps an arm around Victor’s waist first, sending a message to anyone who may doubt who Victor belongs to. They steal teasing glances at each other while throwing smiles to the cameras.

Victor insists that Yuuri stay rink-side before he takes the ice for his short program. To Yuuri’s horror, he ignores Yakov in favor of a send-off kiss, sending the crowds into a frenzy of cheers. Yuuri meekly smiles at the coach in apology. But there’s no time to dwell. Victor’s taking position. Yuuri’s finally getting to watch his idol perform in person without the stress of competing himself. And it’s absolutely spellbinding. Victor skates with a power and fluidity like no-one else. As the final notes fade, Yuuri tries to blink back the tears forming in his eyes, moved not just by the program but by the thought of how much he wants to be with Victor always.

The following night, Yuuri watches Victor accept another gold medal. He’s incredibly proud, and a bit flushed because despite all the cameras, Victor’s only looking at him. The shine of the gold medal pales next to Victor’s brilliant smile as they lock eyes, Yuuri standing exactly where he promised he would.

They have a brief chance to kiss and hug before Yakov whisks Victor away to the press conference. Yuuri’s heart warms at seeing Victor so happy. But as he watches the smiles Victor gives the press, he notices something is off. This isn’t the same smile he saw just a few moments ago. And it finally dawns on him: Victor’s trademark smile isn’t real. It’s not the warm Victor he’s gotten to know. _I thought you loved the attention, Victor. Or are you hiding from the world, too?_

—

“Yuuri, you’ll be joining us at the banquet, won’t you? I’d like a rematch of our dance-off,” Chris asks casually, almost innocently. The three of them are at dinner.

“No! Yuuri’s mine!” Victor replies possessively, throwing his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder in emphasis.

“Oh? Are you jealous?” Chris raises a challenging eyebrow.

Yuuri shrugs to himself as he watches his Russian husband and his Swiss friend bicker over who gets to see the Japanese skater on a pole in his underwear, under what circumstances, and with what amount of alcohol. He takes a sip of his water, ignoring the half empty glass of wine—he really does not want a rematch.

As they part ways, Chris winks at Yuuri before telling Victor, “I’ve never seen you this happy. That hot, young thing has been good for you. Take good care of him, too.”

“I plan to.”

Maybe Victor really does want to be with Yuuri? Or was that reply just for Chris’ benefit, since he’s not aware of their deal?

In their hotel room that night, Victor seems softer, more subdued than usual. Perhaps this is just how Victor is after a competition. They lie in bed together, recounting the events of the last few days.

“It was incredible being here, watching you skate in person.” _No matter what happens between us, I’ll always love watching you skate._

“It meant everything to me, knowing you were out there watching.” Victor kisses Yuuri’s neck gently before whispering in his ear, “Let’s go slow tonight. I want to make love to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s Novym Godom (с Новым Годом): Happy New Year
> 
> I assume that Yakov doesn’t keep kosher.


	5. Four Continents

“Think you can do that again, from the top?” Victor’s voice carries across the nearly empty rink, few crazy enough to stay this late. It’s Yuuri’s favorite time. There are less than two weeks until Four Continents and with Victor’s help, he pushes himself harder than ever before. He sees the results—increased technical difficulty executed more consistently—and dares to believe they’ll translate to a podium finish. He might even be proud of himself.

Yuuri nods and glides back to his starting position, putting all thoughts aside, and performs his free skate once more. His body is at its limit, exhaustion threatening to collapse his legs from under him, and still he pushes through. Just one more jump. One more spin. Breathe.

“Okay, that’s it for today. Bring it in.”

Yuuri downs his water, thankful to be resting, sitting. He begins to unlace his skates as Victor stands behind him, massaging his shoulders. And, oh, it feels so good.

“I haven’t told you before, but I’m very impressed with your work ethic. I’ve always thought you have what it takes to be a world champion, but now I finally see it coming to life. You have a rare dedication to this sport.” Victor then leans over, murmuring into Yuuri’s ear with that silky voice, “The way you skate, it’s like your body creates the music. And not to mention that stamina.”

Yuuri can feel Victor’s sly grin, having heard that last part many times before, the excitement tingling down his spine. Two can play at that game. Yuuri turns his head to steal a kiss, forcing his tongue deep into Victor’s mouth before quickly pulling away, back to his skates. With no hint of emotion, he simply says, “Locker room. Five minutes.”

Victor abruptly stands back, looks around the space and casually walks off.

Yuuri remains alone on the bench, stunned at his own behavior. They had previously agreed to keep amorous activities out of the rink, especially since Yuri yelled at them for being gross after the anniversary bouquet. _Why did I have to go and suggest something so stupid?_ Yuuri wants to feel bad about it, wants to feel anxious. But he doesn’t. He packs up his skates and meets Victor in the locker room.

—

Yuuri blinks awake to the warm and glorious sight of Victor’s head resting on his shoulder. Despite the roomy first class seats, his husband is as clingy as ever. And despite the loss of feeling in his arm, Yuuri hesitates to move, recognizing the rare, pure moment in time for what is, savoring it, committing it to memory. It’s the moment he finally admits to himself that he’s madly in love with Victor. Not Victor Nikiforov, his childhood idol, the living legend of figure skating. No, he’s in love with this Victor. The one next to him, with tousled hair, passed out from too much champagne, drooling slightly on his sleeve.

Yuuri is in love with the warm, goofy Victor who loves his dog and loves to shop. The one who is soft and patient, who believes in him. And the one who’s secretly lonely, forever hiding behind a mask. The one Yuuri wants to see smile.

The one he’s terrified of losing.

Worlds is still over a month away, but they haven’t talked about their divorce yet. So maybe, just maybe, Victor wants Yuuri to stay, at least a little while longer. Maybe he really did mean it when he called Yuuri family.

Heart swelling with emotion, Yuuri leans down to gently brush Victor’s soft, sleepy lips with his own. No matter what happens next month, Victor is his, right here, right now. The rings they wear prove it. Thumbing his husband’s gold band, Yuuri sighs in a mix of contentment and relief as he drifts back to sleep.

—

“Phichit is already here with Celestino,” Yuuri excitedly reads his messages aloud to Victor. They’ve just left the airport, on the way to the hotel. “Let’s have dinner with them, please?”

How long has it been since he last saw his best friend? Since he posed for a selfie with him? Since he gushed about Victor with him? With so much to catch up on, Yuuri is not above begging.

“Sure, but wouldn’t you rather just go with Phichit alone? You haven’t seen each other in a few months now. I can handle one night by myself,” Victor squeezes Yuuri’s knee.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Yuuri’s bright smile eclipses his polite attempt at making sure Victor really doesn’t mind.

“I’ll manage somehow,” Victor laughs before stealing a kiss.

Yuuri beams and returns to his phone, furiously exchanging text messages with his friend until their plans are settled.

“What will you do?”

“Maybe I’ll just stay in and order room service. Russia belongs to the European ISU, so I’m a bit out of place here. Plus, I’m your coach! I’m supposed to be the responsible one and tell you to be back in our room by ten so you can get enough rest for tomorrow.” Victor winks, then pulls Yuuri in close, stealing another kiss.

They notice the glances and murmurs the moment they step through the hotel’s glass revolving doors. It’s to be expected, really. How often does one get to see a top European skater crash Four Continents, never mind Victor Nikiforov himself? Yuuri firmly grasps Victor’s hand as they navigate the sea of athletes and officials on their way to the check-in counter. _Mine._

A small group of reporters stands ready to intercept the couple the moment they have their key cards in hand.

“Victor, how does it feel to be a first-time coach here at Four Continents?”

“I’m very excited to be here with Yuuri. He’s been working hard and you’ll see him earn a new personal best,” Victor happily gushes to whoever will listen, oblivious to his student’s discomfort.

“Yuuri, you already set an impressive personal best at your Nationals earlier in the season. How has your training regimen changed since living in Saint Petersburg to ensure you continue to improve?”

“Ah, well, Victor is a great coach. He really pushes me hard and knows how to bring out my strengths. I wouldn’t be here without him.” _I wouldn’t even be skating._

“How do two you feel about facing each other at Worlds in just a few weeks?”

“We’ll both be on the podium, of course!” Victor cheerily beats his husband to the answer causing Yuuri’s spirit to leave his body. Victor expects him to medal at the World Championships?

Before Victor can dig Yuuri’s grave any further, a friendly, welcome voice reaches them from across the lobby.

“Yuuri! There you are!” The human ray of sunshine beams at them with a wide smile and a waving hand, diverting the reporters’ attention.

“Please excuse us.” Yuuri politely bows, and scurries away toward his friend with Victor in tow, grateful for the escape.

Yuuri had missed his friend so much that he happily complies when Phichit whips out his phone for a selfie. Several selfies. Once one’s been deemed satisfactory, Yuuri gestures Victor over while Phichit adds the appropriate tags.

“Phichit-kun, I’d like you to meet Victor. Victor, this is—“

“Phichit Chulanont. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” Victor extends an arm to welcome the Thai skater into a friendly hand shake. Yuuri hopes they’ll get along.

“Finally I meet the man who stole my best friend’s heart! Yuuri’s fun when he drinks, isn’t he?” Phichit laughs.

Yuuri makes an indiscernible sound, halfway between a yelp and squeak and promptly buries his face in his hands. He should have realized sooner that introducing these two is probably not in his best interest.

“Yes, he certainly is,” Victor heartily agrees, holding Yuuri close by the waist, and kissing the top of his head.

Yuuri feels the heat rising in his cheeks, embarrassed that his two favorite skaters are amused at his expense. He needs to end this and quickly.

“We, uh, need to get settled into our room. I’ll meet you later tonight for dinner, okay?”

“Okay! Have fun!” Phichit waves off the couple with an impish smile.

Relieved to be in the safety of the elevator, Yuuri replays Victor’s comments to the reporters. Despite the embarrassing interlude, Yuuri hasn’t forgotten. _We’ll both be on the podium, of course!_ Does Victor really expect that? Will it make their break-up story more plausible, that they’ve trained so hard, that they chose the ice over each other? Or is that what Yuuri needs to attain to not let Victor down as a coach?

“What’s wrong, _solntse_?” Victor wears a frown as he looks over his shoulder in concern, already unpacking. Yuuri just dumbly stands in front of the bed, caught up in his own treacherous thoughts, with no recollection of how he got there.

“Oh, I guess I’m just jet lagged. I should take a nap before my dinner with Phichit. I hope you don’t mind being on your own the rest of the day.” It’s not a lie exactly. A nap does sound delightful right now, aside from being a convenient excuse to not talk.

The next thing he knows, Yuuri’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, with a sleep mask over his eyes, a blanket over his body, and a clingy Victor cuddling him tight. It’s not exactly what he had in mind for a peaceful nap.

“Victor, did you set an alarm?” Yuuri knows by now there’s no sense in trying to peel his husband’s body away, so the least he can do is ensure he’ll be up in time to get ready.

There’s no reply.

—

“Ne, Phichit-kun, remember how you said that Victor might actually like me?” Yuuri hesitantly changes the topic away from the latest hamster drama after their dinner is served.

“He doesn’t just ‘might actually like you’,” Phichit practically scolds while curling his fingers into air quotes. “But, why? Did something happen?”

“Well, we’re just over a month away from Worlds now and he hasn’t brought up the divorce yet. And I’m scared to.” Yuuri gulps and averts his eyes before slowly bringing them back to meet his friend’s, scared of what he’s about to admit aloud. “Because I think I love him.”

A raised brow compels Yuuri to clarify, “Not the Victor I grew up adoring, but the real Victor. My Victor.” _My Victor for now._

Dark grey eyes twinkle in wicked delight, their owner gleefully clapping his hands. “Yuuri! This is the moment I’ve been training for!”

“Eh?” Bewildered, Yuuri begins to regret bringing this up.

“To help you in your relationship crisis time of need! To be honest, I’ve been bitter that I didn’t get to be the best man at your wedding. Like hell I’m going to let you divorce.”

Yuuri violently shakes his head, “No, Phichit. I don’t know what you’re scheming, but no.”

“Too late, Yuuri. You asked for my help and help you shall receive. Now eat before it gets cold while I tell you what’s going to happen.”

“But—,” Yuuri tries to protest only to be silenced by Phichit’s demanding expression. He reluctantly proceeds to pick at his dish in defeat, playing back his words in his head. He’s pretty sure he didn’t actually ask for help.

“Step one: prove that Victor loves you.” Phichit can sense Yuuri about to object and promptly shushes him before continuing, “We already have all the evidence. Firstly, he married you. Of his own free will. Sure, he technically didn’t remember, but neither did you. And you told me he kissed you good morning even before you made that deal with the publicist. If he wasn’t already in love with you, why would he have done that?”

“Umm…”

“That was rhetorical, Yuuri,” Phichit _tsks_. “Moving on. He’s been nothing but sweet and supportive. He takes you on dates. He bought you a mountain of expensive clothes. He volunteered to be your coach of all things! All that before you started sleeping together. I guarantee that’s not just for appearance’s sake. I bet he doesn’t want it to end after Worlds, either. He’s as scared to bring it up to you as you are to him. Because he’s crazy about you.” Phichit pauses here to look Yuuri dead in the eye. “As. He. Should. Be.”

Satisfied with his case, Phichit victoriously folds his arms across his chest and leans back to admire the grand achievement that is Yuuri Katsuki.

“You really think so?” A spark of hope dares to kindle in Yuuri’s heart. 

“Yes, and I will prove it to you. But under one condition.”

Yuuri doesn’t want to know _how_ Phichit will prove it. He’s not even sure he wants to know the condition, but asks anyway, not bothering to hide his hesitation, “Okay?”

“Let’s take photos together during the competition like we used to.”

Relieved, Yuuri agrees in a heartbeat, smiling at the memories of training and competing. How can he deny Phichit such a simple request, knowing how much joy it brings his friend to take and post photos for social media? Even if Yuuri is sometimes uncomfortable with them, like that shirtless photo with his silver medal from Skate America that he reluctantly agreed to after losing a bet. He’ll gladly take another photo like that if it will mean getting an answer about how Victor feels.

* * *

Trendy light fixtures punctuate the otherwise dimly-lit hotel bar where Victor sits alone, nursing his second drink, barely tasting the liquid as it passes his lips. It’s nice that Yuuri gets to reconnect with his close friend tonight. So why does Victor feel unsettled? Could they be talking about him? About his relationship with Yuuri?

“Mind if I join you?” The American-Italian’s booming voice brings Victor out of his thoughts and he nods to the empty chair next to him in invitation.

The two coaches exchange a few pleasantries while Celestino orders a drink. Victor knows he owes much to the other man for training Yuuri for so many years, but also for trusting him with Yuuri now. Even if he outwardly jokes that Victor is just playing at being a coach.

“Have you two made plans yet for the off-season? I’m happy to give you time at my rink while Yuuri’s back in school for the summer.”

School for the summer… _Yuuri has to go back to Detroit?_ When was Yuuri going to tell him? Victor is vaguely aware that Yuuri is a student, but it somehow never occurred to him that meant taking classes. What is he studying, anyway? Victor is a shitty, shitty husband for having no idea.

Instinctively, Victor plasters on his media smile before replying, “We haven’t discussed it in detail yet, but thank you for the offer. It’s good to know we have options.”

“His rink mates will be excited to see him again, and to see you, of course. And it’ll be good for Phichit to have two strong skaters around him.”

“He’s going to make the Grand Prix Final next year. I’d bet money on it,” Victor easily takes the opportunity to deflect.

“Ha! Of course he will!” Celestino raises his glass in a toast, “To our students.”

“To our students!” They clink glasses and down their drinks, immediately ordering another round.

“Speaking of students, what’s your plan to handle Yuuri’s anxiety attacks here?”

“What anxiety attacks?” Victor blurts out in concern, all previous composure instantly lost.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you? Well, maybe they won’t be bad this time around. He was fine at Nationals.”

Usually Victor loves surprises. But now he’s gotten two in the course of a single conversation that leave him uneasy. They’ve been so busy training and traveling that it makes sense their off-season plans haven’t come up yet. But anxiety attacks? That’s something a coach aught to know. Why has Yuuri been hiding this from him? What else has he not told Victor?

Bidding the older coach good night, Victor strolls outside to clear his head, feeling increasingly isolated, like he’s forgetting something important and nobody can remind him what it is. Who would have thought that Victor Nikiforov of all people would feel out of place at a skating competition? He wanders aimlessly, trying to recapture his sense of purpose, taking turns at random until he finally stops to look at his surroundings and sighs in frustration. He’s lost.

He should just head back to the hotel soon, to his Yuuri. They’ll talk through this whole misunderstanding and everything will be okay. Yes, solid plan. Victor reaches for his phone. It feels cold and heavy in his hands and he stills under a lonely lamppost.

 **Lena:** Do I need to do damage control?

 _Great._ Someone probably took an unflattering photo of Victor sitting at the bar, looking lonely. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

 **Victor:** No, it’s fine.

 **Lena:** You owe me cute photos with Yuuri tomorrow.

**Victor:** _Da._

Who is working for whom? Annoyed, Victor returns his attention what really caught his eye—media alerts for Yuuri. Phichit must have posted some photos. Victor scrolls through the stream from this evening, a small smile forming on his face. Yuuri deserves to have fun before competing. 

**phichit+chu**  
[image: Phichit with his arm wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders]  
Detroit friends back together! @katsuki-y  
#4ccs #bestfriends #justlikedetroit 

**phichit+chu**  
[image: Phichit and Yuuri next to each other, each kicking a leg high into the air]  
Dancers on the ice and off @katsuki-y  
#4ccs #bestfriends #justlikedetroit #skatedancers 

**phichit+chu**  
[image: Phichit and Yuuri dancing at a club, Yuuri’s shirt unbuttoned]  
Pre-competition fun! I promise to bring him back sober! @katsuki-y @v-nikiforov  
#4ccs #bestfriends #drunkyuuri 

Victor’s mouth runs dry. Is Yuuri wearing eyeliner and mascara? _Wow, it’s hot._ He makes a note of that fact for later. And oh, the glistening skin peeking out from behind that shirt. Delicious. But his sweet Yuuri would never wear his shirt that way, at least not in public. And why do he and Phichit look a little too friendly together? _Oh, god._

The day got worse. There are more photos, each one more concerning than the last.

Victor hurries back to the hotel, eager to hold his husband in his arms again, to kiss every inch of him senseless until the rest of the world fades away. He readies the bed, adjusting the pillows and blankets just so. And then waits.

Yuuri is not back to their room by ten. Or eleven. Victor falls asleep alone, clutching a pillow instead of his warm, cuddly husband, tears threatening to spill from his worried eyes.

—

“Mmm…” Victor unconsciously turns his head to expose his neck to the trail of soft kisses. When those kisses finally reach his mouth, he parts his lips and kisses back, eyes slowly fluttering open. What a nice way to wake up.

“I’m sorry I came back so late last night.”

“Yes, well…” Victor doesn’t complete his thought. Yuuri is kneeling between his legs, looking back at him with lust, a sinful tongue teasing out from full lips. “I missed you” are the last words he hears before the heat and wetness of that eager mouth envelop him.

—

Victor is not happy before, during, or after Yuuri’s practice. And it has nothing to do with Yuuri and everything to do with Phichit. So much for thanking the lithe Thai representative for all the juicy Yuuri content while Victor was pining. So much for ever entertaining the idea the two of them could be friends. No, this man is no friend. He is simply cruel. With his deceptively _innocent_ bright smile and attention-seeking selfie requests, he steals Yuuri for every possible non-training moment. Away from Victor.

And he’s doing it on purpose, incessantly throwing wolfish grins in Victor’s direction, trying to get a rouse from the living legend. But it’s not going to work. Because Victor is above all that. And as long as Yuuri is happy and stays focused during practice, well that’s all that matters. Victor simply dons his mask and nods in acknowledgment.

After a final set of unnecessary hugs, goodbyes and well-wishes, like lovers parting never to see each other again, Phichit at last relinquishes a sweaty Yuuri into Victor’s eager embrace. The so-called friend even has the audacity to throw a flirtatious wink at Victor as he turns the corner, Yuuri too buried in Victor’s arms to notice.

“Yuuri, what do you want to do now?”

“Will you take me sightseeing?” The hopeful glint in Yuuri’s perfect eyes is impossible to resist, even if Victor would recommend a good night’s rest to prepare for tomorrow’s short program instead. He kisses Yuuri’s hand in agreement.

“Anything for you, _soltnse_.”

Victor struggles to find an opportunity to ask Yuuri about his summer classes and anxiety attacks, too lost in enjoying their date, in the sensation of Yuuri’s hand pulling his own from one attraction to the next. It’s late by the time they return to the hotel, even later after they’ve made love. Victor misses his opportunity, or rather, he successfully avoids it, using the upcoming competition as an excuse. He doesn’t want to accidentally upset Yuuri before he has to skate, especially if the anxiety attacks are true.

The next morning, he packs an extra bag for himself. He’ll need it, especially with Phichit floating around. Identifying the perfect time to sneak off before the warm-up period, Victor reemerges in his favorite custom-tailored three-piece suit to swoons of approval.

“Victor! Why did you change clothes?”

“It’s my glorious debut as a coach! I should be in formal dress.” _Also, I want to show off in front of your friend._ Victor’s smug grin begins to slip when he realizes Yuuri isn’t impressed. Why isn’t Yuuri impressed? Just because none of the other coaches have a sense of style doesn’t mean he shouldn’t dress his best, right?

Lost in his own thoughts, Victor almost misses when it’s time for Yuuri’s turn on the ice. He pulls his student into a rink-side hug and promptly blanks. He really should have prepared better for this. He owes Yuuri nothing less.

“As your coach, what should I say before sending you off to your program? What I’m thinking right now is…” He gets cut off with a kiss.

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me.” As if Victor could if he tried. And with that, Yuuri is gone.

Yuuri’s program is beautiful and nearly flawless despite Victor’s amateurish behavior. Watching Yuuri skate in competition, in costume, one with the music under the bright lights is truly mesmerizing. As mesmerizing as last season’s World’s.

_Victor had just stepped off the ice after practice, ready for an indulgent shower and an even more indulgent afternoon of pampering. He looked around for Chris. Perhaps the Swiss wanted to join him for lunch? What he found instead left his jaw slack. He was instantly enthralled, barely able to find a seat without tripping over himself. He watched the Japanese skater’s entire practice in quiet awe._

_His spins were divine. His step sequences, exquisite. Even without music, Victor couldn’t take his eyes off him. It’s a pity he only had one quad. Just a bit more on the technical side and he could rival even Victor himself. Wouldn’t that be nice, to skate alongside an equal? Chris was rarely too far behind in points, but his style wasn’t one Victor admired. Victor wanted more. To get to know him, to skate with him, to adopt puppies with him… to kiss him. He’d never felt that way about anyone before. They hadn’t even talked yet. Victor didn’t even know his name. But he’d find out._

_Even Victor knew to wait until after the competition to introduce himself. The ice comes first. The ice always comes first, for all of them competing at the highest level. He would talk to Yuuri after. Except after never came. By the time the medal ceremony was over, Yuuri was nowhere to be found. He was gone before the exhibition, before the banquet. But he wasn’t gone from Victor’s mind. Victor saw pieces of his own skating in Yuuri’s, and was touched that he inspired another skater so much. In return, Yuuri inspired Victor to continue into next season._

Victor feels his chest tighten, captive emotions ready to spring forth as they sit in the kiss and cry together for the first time as coach and athlete. The overwhelming sense of pride, satisfaction, relief—none of which Victor has felt in years—now flow freely through him, because of Yuuri. How did he go all those years being alone? He shakes off the thought because now he doesn’t have to. Now he has his beautiful husband by his side.

Happy with the score, they take their seats in the stands with the rest of the competitors who’ve already skated. Yuuri sits next to Phichit, who immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls their heads close together, whispering something into his ear. Yuuri grins and giggles. Victor awkwardly sits in the next seat, dejected, until Yuuri reaches for his hand. His Yuuri smiles at him and laces their fingers before turning his attention back to his Thai friend. Back to a former life that Victor knows nothing about.

He finally pinpoints that uneasy feeling. Jealousy.

—

Victor kisses Yuuri good morning, excited to start their day. Yuuri is in second place going into the Free Skate. Some Canadian—James Jack something or other—is in first. With Cao Bin dropping out, there’s little real competition left. Perhaps that Kazakh? Regardless, Victor knows that Yuuri can do this, he can win gold here at Four Continents.

It’s only during practice that Victor gets his first hint that something’s very wrong. Yuuri’s face is pale, his hands are trembling. _Shit._ He’s missing jump after jump. Is this the anxiety attack Celestino warned about? Victor paces the halls in frustration, ready to pray for divine intervention, while Yuuri stretches nearby. A good coach would know what to do.

“Yuuri?” A traitorous voice calls in gentle concern. This is not the divine intervention Victor wanted. He turns in time to see Phichit rushing over to hug Yuuri.

“Yuuri, look at me. Can you stand? Good. Come on, let’s go this way.” And before Victor knows it, his husband is gone, wrapped in another man’s arms.

* * *

“Phichit-kun, what are you doing? You have to skate! I’m okay.”

“Wrong and wrong. I already skated and you are definitely not okay.”

Yuuri entire frame drops in relief, knowing he’s not going to sabotage his friend’s performance, only to tighten again at having missed it.

“I’m in second. I have a real shot at the podium. What if I mess it up? Victor said he expects me on the podium at Worlds! With him and Chris in that competition, my only hope of matching that level is to win gold here. Gold!—” Phichit’s warm arms cover his shoulders and cradle his head, allowing the tears to fall freely.

“Shh, it’s okay, Yuu-chan. I saw that clip and Victor was just excited. He believes in you. He believes you’re talented enough to be on the podium. I believe it, too.” Phichit pauses to stroke Yuuri’s hair, careful not to mess up the gelled styling. “But it’s not an expectation. There are no conditions there. Just faith.”

Yuuri sits in silence, processing what Phichit just told him. _It’s not an expectation. There are no conditions_. Whether Victor wants to stay married or not is irrelevant. Phichit believes in Yuuri, has believed in Yuuri from the day they met, and that’s enough. Yuuri owes it to himself to believe, too.

He re-enters the warm-up area with Phichit’s arm around his waist as they approach Victor. The fear across Victor’s face pulls at Yuuri’s heartstrings, his own face pleading for forgiveness. A quick thank you to Phichit and Yuuri is back at Victor’s side, holding his hand and thumbing his ring.

“I should put on my skates. It’s almost time.” _Almost time to skate, almost time for us to part._

As he hits the final pose of his free skate, Yuuri knows he did well, tears of joy spilling from his flushed face. He landed the quad Salchow for the first time in competition and it was clean. He can barely believe it. And he knows he owes it Victor. Victor, who is ready to receive him from the ice with open arms.

“Victor! I did great, right?”

A hug and a kiss reassure him he did. As does the score. Yuuri’s in first place with one final skater to go. They watch JJ in anticipation, the Canadian is known for taking huge risks. Rumor has it he plans unveil his quad Lutz here. JJ style is much too flashy for Yuuri’s understated taste and lacks Victor’s masterful flow and artistry, but he watches closely just the same. Here it comes—one, two, three, and crash. JJ falls without completing the fourth revolution. Victor and Yuuri turn to look at each other with twinkling smiles.

As he stands in the center of the podium to receive his medal, Yuuri’s grateful to Victor for the time they've shared. The last three months have felt like living someone else’s life, the perfect escape Yuuri hoped for, the entire reason he agreed to their deal in the first place. But now it's time to think about what will happen after March. Phichit hasn’t confirmed yet that Victor loves him, that fleeting ember of hope extinguished. Yuuri needs to think practically. And that starts with finishing school. He’s only a few classes away from graduating, and it’s already going to take him an extra year. Should he plan on going back to Detroit? Or on transferring the credits? Or something else?

* * *

“Phichit! A word, please?” Victor pairs his mask with a sweet voice, gesturing toward a quiet hallway.

“Of course! What can I do for you?”

“What exactly is your relationship with my husband?” He speaks slowly, enunciating each syllable to ensure the Thai man understands why he’s glaring.

“Oh, we’re quite close. We used to live together, you know.”

“I don’t care what you were. Yuuri’s happily married to me now, so back the hell off.”

“And that’s exactly why I’ll be waiting for him with open arms once you’re done with him, Nikiforov. When he comes back to Detroit with a broken heart.”

A broken heart? What the actual fuck? Victor is at a loss for words.

“After Worlds. That was your arrangement, wasn’t it? To stay together through Worlds? Or has something changed? Because Yuuri hasn’t told me otherwise.”

“Oh, shit.” Victor truly and completely forgot. He looks at Phichit with wide, terrified eyes. “I… forgot. Things have been so good that I… forgot. I thought we were really married, forever married.”

Victor expects smug satisfaction, but finds kindness instead.

“Victor, what do you want?” Soft eyes look back at him, urging him to say what’s on his mind.

“Yuuri. I want my Yuuri.” Victor’s not even ashamed at the glistening drops forming in the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t care, too consumed by his own fear and doubt. If this competition proved anything, it's that Victor doesn't deserve his beautiful, talented husband. 

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” _Yes. So much._

Eager clapping and a genuine smile startle him from his misery.

“Good. That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

“You, you’re not trying to get him back?” Victor’s confused voice trembles more than he’d like to admit.

Phichit shakes his head. “He’s always been yours. But I needed to see for myself if you wanted him, too. Take care of my best friend, Nikiforov, or I _will_ take him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da (да): Yes


	6. Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no longer discrete alternating POVs in this chapter.

_He loves you._ Phichit’s parting words had made Yuuri’s spirit soar, carrying him all the way through the trip back home, through the media circus, through the bombardment of congratulations on his win. He has been more than happy to let them all think his sheepish smile whenever Victor held him, kissed him was just from the praise; inside, Yuuri knows he won something much more.

And now he’s ready to confess. _I have a lot to tell you, Victor. Where should I start?_

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Yuuri asks as he joins Victor on the couch, forcing his own thoughts to the side, for now. What's another minute, or hour, after the months they've already waited? 

“Right.” Victor puts down his phone before proceeding, his voice soft and hesitant, “I’ve been thinking about what I can do as your coach from now on.” _You deserve more. Please give me another chance._ He doesn’t need Phichit’s warning echoing in his brain as a reminder that he should have done better, much better, for Yuuri.

“Me, too,” the reply equally soft and hesitant, Yuuri’s chest aching when Victor’s eyes suddenly drop to hide their fear. A moment passes between them. _Just tell him._ They’re not the right words, far from it, but they tumble out on their own just the same, “Please be my coach until I retire.”

Victor’s head snaps up in surprise. _Did Yuuri just…?_ Eyes shimmering with joy, heart beating in anticipation, thoughts and emotions racing violently, he pulls Yuuri in close, lips begging to touch, and whispers with a coy smile as their eyes meet, “It sounds almost like a marriage proposal.”

The irony of that statement is not lost on either of them, Yuuri turning his head to hide his rising blush in Victor’s shoulder, an act that would have been impossible even weeks ago, but now feels like home.

“I, well…” he stutters, certain the flush is spreading with each passing second. Perhaps he got his message across after all.

“Yes.” Victor sighs into Yuuri’s ear, the breathy tone like velvet. _Yes. A thousand times, yes._

He cups Yuuri’s cheek and turns it upward, his ring flashing a glint, and loses himself in those warm cherry brown eyes, relieved and elated that they’re finally, truly his. And as tears start to glisten in the corners of those beautiful orbs, barely hanging on to unfairly long lashes, Victor gently kisses them away.

“Yuuri, these last few months with you have been the best of my life. You’ve reminded me how much I’ve been neglecting myself, neglecting life and love. And I don’t ever want to go back. I don’t want to go back to that lonely world of just ice and medals. You taught me that I don’t always have to find new strength of my own. Being with you gives me strength. You gave me a reason to keep going, to love skating again, when I thought I no longer could. There’s nothing I want more than to stay close to you.”

Silent tears leave streaks on Yuuri’s face as he listens to Victor’s declaration of love, words continuing to evade him. After a deep breath, he finally musters, “Vitya.”

“Say it again.” Victor’s voice hitches as he asks, the sound from Yuuri’s lips like a fond summer memory. _Never stop._

“Vitya.” Yuuri smiles softly at Victor, his Vitya, who pulls him into tight hug, and accidentally off the couch. The two laugh, not letting their position on the floor deter them from a passionate kiss, until an excited poodle decides to join in with kisses of her own. It’s perfection.

Tangled together in bed that night, blankets and pillows askew, they enjoy simply being together, gazing at each other in wonder and adoration as they fall even deeper in love. The weight they hadn’t even felt they were carrying is now gone, replaced by confidence and stability, the marriage no longer threatened by a looming expiration date. It makes the relationship suddenly feel new, filled with hope and possibilities. They can finally start planning a future—going on vacations, buying a house, adopting poodles. And when that talk is enough, they return to the pure bliss of being in each other’s arms, the quiet between them warm and welcome, each searching the other’s eyes, both finding comfort and trust.

“Let’s get married after Worlds,” Victor eventually breaks the lazy silence.

Yuuri replies with a kiss. “We’re already married.”

“It doesn’t matter. You proposed to me and I accepted. It’s always bothered me that neither of us remembers that night. I want to do it right, we deserve to do it right. Didn’t your family offer to arrange a ceremony for us? Would they still be willing to do it?”

“My mother would be delighted. I’d love for them to finally meet you.”

“Then it’s settled. I can’t wait to marry you again, _solntse_.” After stealing a kiss, Victor returns to lying on his side, enjoying gazing at Yuuri next to him. He doesn’t even know what to expect from a Japanese ceremony, but he doesn’t care. He’s sure it’ll be perfect. Meanwhile, Yuuri pictures Victor in a traditional montsuki kimono and blushes at the gorgeous image his mind gifts him.

“You’re going to look beautiful.”

“Oh?”

Yuuri grabs his phone to show Victor an example and explain all the components of the formal clothing. After a bit of discussion about the clothes and the ceremony as a whole, Victor excitedly declares that he wants to wear white and tackles Yuuri into the pillows. He then proceeds to show his husband exactly how happy it makes him to be able to get married again. As Victor takes his time exploring Yuuri’s body, whispering sweet nothings in Russian, Yuuri finally understands that Victor’s been making love to him all along. They forego the condoms.

* * *

The rink is peaceful without Yura’s angry fits, even more so without Yakov’s yelling. Victor admires Yuuri’s intense focus during quiet times like this on the ice and gladly stays late to practice together. They have mere days to bask in the calm before Yura and Yakov return from Junior Worlds, bringing the chaos with them. With their own World Championships only weeks away, any and all focused practice time is welcome.

They skip their rest day.

Victor loses himself on the ice, ignoring his own practice to refine Yuuri’s choreography over and over again, unsatisfied with the tweaks he’s already made. _There’s still plenty of time to incorporate changes._ He wants to play more to Yuuri’s strengths, but he’s too limited by the existing structure of the programs. Nothing feels like it's enough to take advantage of all the talent Yuuri has to offer. So, naturally, Victor does what he does every year before Worlds—he choreographs new programs. It's always given him something new to look forward to after the season ends, a reason to keep going. Yet this year is different. He has no new ideas for himself, but seemingly limitless ideas for his Yuuri. 

Unable to sleep that night, Victor simply admires the sleeping beauty next to him, fueling his inspiration. Eventually, he gently brushes Yuuri's perfect cheek with the back of his hand before slipping out of bed. Now in the living room, the freedom to move around kicks his mind into high gear, nurturing or rejecting ideas as they flow through him. 

Makkachin keeps Victor company for three such nights as the legend listens to music, dances, and sketches out ideas, while each morning returning to bed to wake up together with Yuuri. New programs begin to take shape. 

“You look like hell. I don’t care what your excuse is this time, you’re still going to skate. Go!” Yakov’s not impressed his first day back.

Victor merely gives a polite smile, regretting nothing, and begins his warm up, allowing muscle memory to take over. Only those close to him would notice he’s a little sloppy compared to his usual top form. He takes off for a flip—the next thing he knows, he’s on the hard ice, his body aching from the impact. It’s not as if the great Victor Nikiforov never misses a jump, but that was only a single, wasn’t it?

Why is Yakov on the ice hunched over him?

“ _Allo?!_ Katsudon? Come get the old man. He’s not fit to skate today.” Victor hears Yura in the distant background.

“Vitya, come on, get up. You’re going home to rest.” Yakov is even less impressed than before.

* * *

“Yuuuuurrriiii! Where have you been? I’ve been so lonely!” Victor whines when Yuuri finally enters the bedroom, needy from too many hours spent alone, completely oblivious of his own physical state.

“I was at the rink. You’re the one who told me to go practice without you while you rest.”

“But I need my Yuuri! Makkachin’s not the same.” The poodle lifts her head slightly at the sound of her name before dozing back off at the foot of the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’m right here. Let me change out of my clothes and I’ll cuddle you.”

Victor huffs and pouts like a child, the idea of having to wait completely unfair.

Yuuri sighs and approaches the bed in apprehension. Victor’s acting slightly more needy than usual. But it’s hard to tell, of course, give how Victor usually acts.

“Vitya! Do you have a fever? The sheets look damp.” Yuuri touches his hand to Victor’s forehead, his usually perfect bangs plastered against it. “You’re burning up. Okay, up! Up, up! Out of bed. We need to change the sheets and get you in some fresh pajamas.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I won’t cuddle you like this.”

Victor pouts again as he assesses the situation. “Fine.”

Situated back in the bed, having forced Victor into taking a fever reducer, Yuuri cuddles his husband to sleep as promised. Victor is absolutely helpless like this and Yuuri’s heart swells with affection at taking care of him. He mouths _“Stay”_ to Makkachin and quietly slips out of bed to prepare dinner, giving Yakov an update on his prize student’s condition as he works.

When Yuuri returns to the bedroom carrying a tray with soup and tea, Victor is already awake. Disoriented, unhappy, but awake, sitting up, staring off toward the balcony as the glow of the evening sun fills the room. _What kind of coach leaves his athlete on his own right before the biggest competition of the season?_

“Oh, good, you’re up.” Yuuri crosses the room to place the tray on Victor’s nightstand.

“What’s good about being up if I can’t coach you?”

“Shh. You’re just sick. You’ve been overdoing it this week.” Yuuri checks his forehead for a fever again. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you left the bed in the middle of night the past few days. What were you doing anyway?”

“Choreographing programs for next season.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile at that response. Of course, Victor of all people would already be working on programs for next season, while everyone else scrambles to put the finishing touches on their programs for this one.

“I can’t wait to see them. But you can’t show me until you’re better, can you?”

“I guess.”

“So eat and get well soon.” Yuuri kisses Victor’s cheek in encouragement.

Victor falls back asleep after finishing only half the soup. _At least he ate something._ Yuuri covers his husband, cleans up the kitchen, and takes Makkachin out for a walk.

He lets her lead the way, having no real plan for this walk, as he reflects on the changes in his life. He’s a married man now. And not just pretend married for convenience, but genuinely married. True partners in life, taking care of each other. _My partner is Victor Nikiforov. And he’s needy, spoiled, persistent, and a morning person of all things! And absolutely perfect._

The poodle nudges Yuuri’s hand for pets, brining him back to the present. He breathes in the cool spring air and leans over to bury his face in the soft brown curls.

“Makkachin, you’re my dog now, too, aren’t you?” She boofs in agreement, wagging her tail like the good girl she is. “You were there for me from day one. Thank you.”

He chuckles to himself at his next, completely ridiculous, thought. _Thank you, too, drunk Yuuri._

Victor doesn’t stir when Yuuri returns from the walk and Yuuri lets him continue sleeping. When it’s finally time to turn in for the night, Yuuri quietly sneaks into bed and knows his partner is still sick when Victor doesn’t automatically wrap himself around him. 

The next day, Victor insists he’s better, while Yuuri insists he stay home.

“Do you want Yakov to send you home again? He’ll yell at me for letting you skate in the first place.”

“What if I prove to you that I’m better? Can I coach you in the afternoon?” Victor knows rest is a part of training, but he’s eager to return to Yuuri’s programs.

“Okay.”

Victor sleeps through the afternoon while Yuuri practices on his own.

The following morning, Victor is the one to wake up Yuuri. It’s much earlier than Yuuri’s normal alarm, but he feels fantastic and this just can’t wait.

“Let’s go to the rink while it’s still empty! I feel so much better!” He peppers Yuuri with kisses as encouragement to start the day.

“Really? That’s great.” Yuuri pecks Victor’s mouth and checks his forehead for a fever. Normal. “Wow, looks like all you needed is some sleep after all. I guess we need to take our rest days more seriously.”

“Yes. Now why are you still under the covers? I want to show you your new choreography! Unless you want to give me a reason to stay in bed with you?” Victor asks in mock innocence.

Yuuri’s face immediately pales. He asks slowly, in dread, “What do you mean _my_ new choreography?”

“Ideas for your programs, for next season. I wasn’t going to show until after Worlds, but you said you wanted to see them,” Victor cheerily replies, as if it’s obvious.

 _Programs for me?_ Victor overexerted himself and collapsed because he was working on programs for Yuuri? Not because of his own training? No, no, no. This isn’t good.

“Vitya, please come back to bed.”

“Oh?” Victor is all too happy to cozy up next to Yuuri under the covers. Yuuri kisses him sweetly on the mouth and smiles before taking a deep breath.

“Thank you for starting on my programs for next season. I do want to see them—“

“But?”

“But I’m worried that you’re putting yourself at risk. I’m not even ready to think about next season yet. And here you are, working yourself to exhaustion over it when we both have to compete again soon. After Nationals, when you became my full coach, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let you put my training ahead of yours. I later promised the same thing to Yakov, too.”

“No, no, don’t worry, _solntse_. I choreograph new programs around this time every year. Yakov knows this. Just this year they happen to be for you.”

“Don’t dismiss my concerns.” Victor flinches at the the spark of irritation in his husband. “I’m worried about you staying on as my coach next season. I’ve been worried from the start, actually. I’d love for you be my choreographer, but… what if we find a new coach for me for next season?”

“Is this about Four Continents? Because I promise I’ll be better. I want to be a better coach to you.” _Please don’t give up on me._ The memories still weight heavily on his mind.

“Of course not. You’ve been a great coach to me. But I just can’t stand to see you making yourself sick over me. Please be just my choreographer next season, okay?”

“Is that what you really want? After you asked me to be your coach until you retire?” How could Yuuri take back something like that? Victor drops his head, confused and dejected.

Yuuri cups Victor’s cheek, thumbing the ridiculous cheekbones, and leans down to kiss that pouty mouth, nibbling the lower lip. “It is. And I asked that before I knew the toll it would take on you. But being with you is all I really want, even after we’re both retired.”

Yuuri’s tender kisses continue, eventually turning that pout into a smile. Victor is late to practice, despite the early wake up time. At least he’s fully recovered.

* * *

Mila watches the sparkle of azure and fuchsia dance across the ice, the desperate lonely voice of Stammi Vicino replaced by a hopeful duet, Georgi quietly weeping at her side. She knows better than to record this time, honored to have a glimpse of the dress rehearsal for Victor and Yuuri’s surprise at Worlds. It’s the privilege they get for standing guard over the windowless practice rink so others don’t accidentally wander in.

Practice complete, Victor sneaks a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, too happy to restrain himself as they walk out of the locker room. This is it. They leave for Tokyo in the morning.

“Gross. Old man, you better get that fifth World Champion title because that’ll be the last gold medal you see once I enter seniors. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your promise to choreograph a program for my debut. Hear that, Katsudon? Your coach owes me a program.”

“Don’t worry, Yura, I’ll make sure he makes good on that promise.” Yuuri replies with an easy smile, no longer intimidated by the kitten. In Victor’s ear, he whispers, “I’m so relieved you’ll be just my choreographer next season. You take on more than you realize.”

* * *

The warmth of the shower spray provides welcome relief to Victor’s tired muscles. The first day of competition had been amazing, Yuuri finishing in a solid fourth place. And with his free skate stronger than his short program, he’ll surely make the podium. Victor’s pride as a coach swells as he pictures Yuuri in the center, wearing gold, and knows he wants nothing less for his athlete and husband, until he faces a chilling realization. How can he make sure Yuuri wins gold when Victor's been the one hoarding all the gold medals for himself? Getting silver would certainly be a surprise, but his pride doesn’t find that option appealing. Besides, Yuuri would never forgive him for giving anything less than his best. What other options are left?

“Yuuri, Yuuri!” Victor bursts out of the bathroom in a robe, hair and skin still dripping, having barely toweled off in his feverish rush from the shower. His eyes sparkle with excitement as Yuuri blinks up at him, startled by the sudden disruption. “I figured out how I can still be your coach next season without wearing myself out!”

“How?” Yuuri is reasonably skeptical. He didn’t realize this was still up for consideration.

“I don’t need a better schedule or more discipline. I’m just going to be your coach full time! Isn’t that great?” Victor bounces, his heart shaped smile as radiant as ever.

“Vitya, what are you saying?” Yuuri shakes his head. He can only think of one way that Victor could be his coach full time and he doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’m retiring,” Victor states with an air of decisiveness. He can’t believe the freedom and joy in saying those words aloud, his lungs breathing easier than they have in years. It’s the right choice. It’s the right time. There’s no reason left to keep going. And it will make them both happy.

The tears flow immediately, heavy and ugly, and Yuuri can’t stop himself from hurling bitter words at his husband. “I should have expected that Victor Nikiforov would be such a selfish human being.”

It stings, but Victor tries his best to calm Yuuri. “Selfish? For wanting to be your coach? For wanting to be with you while you keep going?”

“How can you tell me to keep going while saying you’re retiring? That’s not being with me at all.” The tears continue and he quietly adds, “I’ve only ever wanted to skate on the same ice as you, as an equal. Please don’t retire. Not yet.”

“ _Solntse_ , there’s nothing more for me to accomplish. But you, you can surpass me. I know it.” _I want you to_ , he regretfully doesn't say, knowing it would fall on deaf ears. Victor studies Yuuri’s reaction for a moment before deciding to appeal to a different side of him, “You know how unhappy I’ve been the last few seasons. I need you to accept my choice.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t right now.” Yuuri whispers as he walks toward the door, wiping the tears away with the heels of his hands. 

Victor watches the scene unfold before him in cruel slow motion as Yuuri grabs his coat and gear bag, and leaves, the door unintentionally slamming shut behind him, the room instantly quiet. He's completely stunned. Nothing about this conversation was what he expected. It takes him exactly two seconds after he finds himself alone to rush out after Yuuri, calling for him to stop, not having bothered with shoes or retying the hastily donned robe. His longer legs allow him to catch up just before the elevator bay. _I made it in time._ He grabs Yuuri by the shoulder to turn him around so they can face each other, so they can continue talking. The look Victor receives, however, causes him to let go and step back. It’s the same look of disbelief he received when he asked Yuuri if he wanted a commemorative photo after the Grand Prix Final. He watches Yuuri walk away from him, just like he did then, paralyzed in place.

Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief, alone, surrounded by just the hum of the elevator and his own thoughts. He’s not mad at Victor, not really. He’s mad at himself, for having only one more chance to skate on the same ice as his idol. If only he had trained harder, maybe could have made it into the top ranks a season sooner, maybe even years sooner. But that’s not Victor’s fault.

 **Yuuri:** I’m sorry. I just need some time to think.  
**Yuuri:** I promise I’ll be back tonight.

 **Vitya:** I’ll be here, waiting for you.

 _For me? Victor’s doing this for me._ Then what if Yuuri takes himself out of the equation? What if… What if they end this? The elevator chimes the arrival on the ground floor, breaking Yuuri out of his dangerous train of thought. At a time like this, he needs to skate.

Half an hour later, Yuuri finds himself at a commercial rink where the public skating hours are still going strong. He’s not here for real practice, just for the feel of the ice. Easy laps around the rink are good enough to work through his thoughts. He doesn’t get the chance to quietly ruminate and reflect, though, when he feels eyes on him before he even finishes lacing his skates. The crowd recognizes him. Of course they do. They’re in Tokyo for the World Championships. And he’s Japan’s ace.

Yuuri smiles, signs autographs, poses for pictures, just like Victor would do, even though he would rather not. He then skates a few step sequences, and shows off a few spins and jumps out of obligation, just so it doesn’t seem like he was there for nothing. Disappointed that he didn’t get the undisturbed time he really wanted, needed, he gets ready to leave, but not before gets an idea. He talks to the manager on the way out.

* * *

A nearly empty bottle of sake now sits on Victor’s nightstand, the man consuming it shaken, struggling to understand his husband’s actions. It’s already been two hours, but he doesn’t dare leave. He wants to make sure he’s here in their room when Yuuri returns, whenever that might be. Victor’s phone buzzes with media alerts for his absent spouse, probably speculation about the upcoming free skate. With nothing better to do, he taps into them and is even more bewildered at what he sees. Yuuri is at a rink, taking photos with fans. At least Victor can stop worrying about where his husband is. Even if said husband looks to be having fun when he has no business doing so.

Victor startles at the sound of the lock clicking and watches the hesitant door open. Yuuri steps into the room, looking positively defeated, eyes downward, shoulders slumped, reeking of exhaustion. Immediate guilt strikes Victor for thinking Yuuri was out having fun.

“ _Solntse,_ you’re back.” He springs out of bed to offer a hug, hoping it will be welcome.

Yuuri melts into the familiar embrace, relieved to be in those strong arms again. He can’t believe that for a tiny moment in the elevator earlier tonight, he thought of leaving Victor, of calling off their second wedding next week.

“I’m back. I’m sorry I left like that.”

“Did you get what you needed?”

“Not exactly. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, I’m sorry.” And with that, Yuuri slips out of Victor’s arms and into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room.

When Yuuri emerges, Victor is in bed, at a loss. He won’t be able to sleep like this. He still doesn’t understand why Yuuri is this upset. Skating on the same ice as equals? Isn’t that what the surprise exhibition skate is going to be? What more could Yuuri want? He’s lost in his own reverie when he feels a light touch on his arm and immediately snaps back to the moment to see beautiful cherry-brown eyes staring into his.

“I’m not going to practice tomorrow,” Yuuri says quietly but with determination. Victor is familiar with that formidable look.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a rink about half an hour away. I rented it out for most of the day. I figured I might as well use my name recognition and that money from the commercial for something.” Yuuri’s flat tone leaves Victor wondering how to react.

He decides for a positive spin. “Wow! What time shall we start?”

“I’m going alone. I need to skate through my thoughts and emotions. You should focus on your own practice if you want to go out on top.” The earlier bitterness is absent, but it’s not exactly acceptance either.

Victor gets a mere peck on the mouth before Yuuri turns away. “Good night, Vitya.”

* * *

Victor’s low energy the following day makes practice brutal, Yakov as unforgiving as always. He struggles to stay motivated despite knowing tomorrow will be his final skate, and puts in only enough effort to avoid Yakov’s displeasure. But once he gets to do a run through with music, he’s compelled to do the program justice, yearning for Yuuri to stay close, now more than ever. Yakov merely nods when he’s done, a sign of approval.

“Where’s your husband? He’s going to miss his practice time.”

“Yuuri has made his own arrangements for practice today that don’t include me.” Victor shrugs after giving the deadpan response.

Yakov’s eyes narrow in on his student. “Do you need to tell me something?”

Victor sighs and tilts his head toward the labyrinth of the stadium where they find an empty room away from curious eyes and ears. Facing each other in the dimly lit space, Victor warmly wraps his arms around the man who’s like a father to him, the man who’s made him into a champion, and kisses his cheek. “Yakov, you were the best coach I’ve ever had. You always will be.”

“You’re retiring,” Yakov huffs. It’s not a question.

The gentle nod and hint of a smile tell the coach all he needs to know. And now it's his turn to sigh. Victor’s danced around retirement before, but this feels different, certain. “For him? No wonder he’s upset with you, Vitya.”

“No, for myself. It’s time.”

“I see. You still have a few years left, you know. If you leave now, you can’t ever go back.”

“I don’t have a reason to.” Kissing Yuuri’s gold medal had tasted like honey on his lips, a far cry from the ash of kissing his own.

* * *

_Skaters are only competitive for a short while. Skaters are only competitive for a short while. Skaters are only competitive for a short while._ The mantra repeats in Yuuri’s mind as he desperately tries to come to terms with Victor’s decision to retire. Double axel, clean. He can’t stand the thought of being the one to kill Victor’s competitive career. It’s just not a good enough reason. Why is coaching so important to Victor anyway? Triple axel, clean. Victor’s told Yuuri he’s been unhappy, lacking motivation. And he’s certainly getting up there in years. But this is Victor Nikiforov! It will be the end of an era. Double toe loop, clean.

He remembers Victor’s words, _There’s nothing more for me to accomplish._ But, but… What if Yuuri is the one being selfish, thinking he knows what’s best for Victor’s career? _I want to stay in figure skating with you forever, but not at the expense of your well-being_. Triple toe loop, clean. He resigns himself to the reality that tomorrow will be his last chance on the same ice as Victor. But maybe it’s a new beginning, too. Double flip, clean. Victor is too inexperienced as a coach, but also the best coach he’s ever had. And for the first time, he’s curious rather than upset about that new choreography.If tomorrow really will be the last time he’s on the ice against Victor, he needs to make it count. But how? Triple flip, over rotated.

A huge smile of relief spreads across Yuuri’s face, the tension of the last day fleeing his body. He knows exactly what to do. Quad flip, fall on the landing. Quad flip, fall on the landing. Quad flip, hand on the ice. He practices a few more, none of them clean. But it’s good enough. _Thank you, Vitya, for bringing me all the way here._

* * *

“Vitya!” Yuuri stumbles through the door, ready to tell his husband that he accepts his choice, only to find the hotel room empty. He checks his phone for missed messages or calls but there are none.

 **Yuuri:** I’m back from practice. Waiting for you.

When there’s no reply, Yuuri crawls onto the bed and scrolls through his Instagram feed to keep his mind occupied. Oh, looks like Victor’s at the pool with Chris. Yuuri absently wonders if he’s told Chris about his plans. Knowing Victor, he’ll have told as few people as possible, maybe not even Yakov. The press won’t know what hit them tomorrow. Yuuri smiles at that thought. Victor really is a genius who never fails to surprise.

The door opens and a somber Victor enters the room, still in swim trunks, a towel draped around his shoulders. They lock eyes.

“I told Yakov. He said no wonder you’re upset with me,” Victor admits before looking away.

Yuuri rushes over to kiss the worry off his husband’s gorgeous face. “Shh. Let’s sit down and we can talk about it. I’m finally ready.”

They sit on the edge of the bed facing each other. Yuuri looks Victor squarely in the eye and declares, “I accept your decision.”

“You do?” Victor trembles in joy and relief, welcoming the arms around him as they pull him in.

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me some time to come to terms with it.” Yuuri rubs gentle circles into Victor’s back. “I can’t choose your career for you, Vitya. But I need to know you have better reasons to retire than to coach me.”

“What better reason could there be?” Victor pulls back enough to capture Yuuri’s mouth with his own. 

“I’m serious. I could never forgive myself for taking you away from the ice.”

“That’s what Yakov said, too.” He buries himself in Yuuri’s chest, breaths quickening. “I’m tired, _solntse_. My gold medals don’t mean anything to me anymore. But I don’t want to go out in decline, winning silver instead of gold. I don’t want to be forced into retirement by an injury. I want this to be on my terms. I would have retired a season ago if I knew what I wanted to do instead. But I was scared, all I had was the ice. Then seeing you at last year’s World’s gave me reason to keep going, that maybe I could see you again. And now that I have you, I want nothing more than to see _you_ with gold medals.”

“You were scared to retire?” Yuuri’s heart crumbles. He knew Victor was struggling, hiding, but had no idea it went this far back.

“I’m not anymore. You give me strength, Yuuri. I’ve told you from the start, you’re my inspiration.”

Victor feels a kiss land on top of his head. “Then let’s surprise everyone together.”

* * *

The crowds chant Yuuri’s name, expectations high for the host country’s athlete, as he steps on to the ice, running a few warm-up laps while the previous skater receives his scores. Yuuri smiles to himself before returning to the boards for his final words with Victor. His husband has surprised him so much already; it’s time he gives a surprise of his own.

“Yuuri, show me the skating you honestly like best.” Victor gives a shaky smile. There’s so much more he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. Looks like he hasn’t improved much as a coach yet when it comes to these pep talks, but finds comfort in knowing Yuuri will give him the opportunity to try again.

Yuuri embraces Victor and whispers in his ear, “I will. I want you to smile for your last time on the ice.”

Yuuri skates to the center of the rink, carried there by loud cheers. He brings his right hand to his lips, kissing his ring, before starting. Victor’s heart flips in his chest at the meaning. While he himself has done it every skate since they married, it’s the first time Yuuri has.

Yuuri’s performance is powerful and dynamic, keeping the audience in suspense. Yes! He nailed the quad Salchow. It’s the best Victor has seen Yuuri skate. He can’t keep his eyes off that breathtaking artist on the ice, honored to be his coach. One more jump left, a quad toe loop. Victor’s eyes go wide in surprise, not trusting what he sees. That’s no toe loop, that’s the entrance for a flip. Four revolutions, and oh, almost! A hand on the ice! But it was a flip! Yuuri did a quad flip! Victor’s own signature jump.

The stunning meaning behind that act leaves Victor breathless, expelling whatever tiny, lingering remnant of doubt he held about Yuuri’s support for his decision to retire. _I want you to smile for your last time on the ice._ And Victor will, knowing that Yuuri took full advantage of competing against him one final time.

Victor rushes to the rink entrance, holding his arms out as Yuuri approaches, ready to envelop him. Yuuri’s smiling brightly, arms open to receive the hug. But there’s too much emotion, too much Victor wants to say, and he doesn’t know how, and Yuuri’s not close enough yet, and before he knows what’s happening, Victor jumps out to intercept Yuuri with a kiss. He cradles Yuuri’s head as they both fall onto the ice, wrapped in each other’s arms. When he finally pulls back, it’s to the sight of his husband’s beaming face and twinkling eyes. No words are necessary.

Standing rink-side next to Yakov, Yuuri can barely comprehend how it’s possible that he’s in first place with only one skater left to take the ice. That skater is his husband, Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri watches intently, barely remembering to breathe as his idol takes the ice, unprepared for the pang of disappointment when Victor kisses his ring before taking his starting pose. He knows it will be the last time he sees it. The program is as beautiful as ever, but subtly different. The haunting quality gone, Victor no longer desperately calling for a lover he'll never have. The story transforms into acceptance, into letting the lover go. Yuuri’s eyes glisten in understanding. Victor is saying goodbye to the ice.

As the program comes to an end, it’s again Yuuri’s turn to be surprised when Victor's ending pose has him reaching out, one arm extended directly toward his husband. It's his answer to the quad flip. Yuuri begins to shake, barely able to smile through his joyful tears, his entire being longing for Victor’s touch, as he watches the legend take his last few laps on the ice, scooping up plush poodles, waving warmly to the audience, smiling, soaking it all in one final time. 

A strong whisk from Yakov and a surprised yelp later, Yuuri somehow finds himself in the Kiss and Cry next to Victor. The audience’s hushed murmurs of anticipation fade away as Victor and Yuuri's eyes shine bright with affection for each other, their hands clasped, barely paying attention to the announcement of the score. In that one brief moment, neither of them care.

Standing on the podium next to Victor is a surreal experience. And even though he’s one tier lower and their medal colors are different, Yuuri finally feels like an equal to his idol. The only thing that would make it better is if they didn't have to maintain a certain sense of decorum throughout the ceremony, both wishing to hold hands through it all. They settle for stealing satisfied glances whenever possible instead. Though Victor is far from satisfied. Silver at Worlds is just the beginning for his Yuuri.

The glances continue as they sit next to each other at the press conference, finally holding hands, fingers laced together on top of the table. Victor secretly hopes for a question that will give him an excuse to kiss Yuuri in front of the cameras, just to see that sweet blush. Although, given that competition-styled Yuuri with glasses is by far Victor's favorite look, perhaps it’s better for his fragile heart to not add fuel to the fire.

“Yuuri, how does it feel having your husband as both a coach and a fellow competitor?”

“It’s an honor. Like many skaters, my dream was to skate on the same ice as Victor, as an equal. We’re equals as spouses. Victor as a coach has pushed me beyond what I thought I was capable of, and that makes me feel worthy of sharing the ice with him as a competitor.”

“Yuuri’s the best student.” Victor chimes in, practically cooing.

“Victor, what do you have in mind for next season? Will you continue coaching Yuuri?

“Hmm…” Victor sneaks a sly grin at Yuuri, who blushes before grinning back. “Yes, of course. After all, someone has to keep the Nikiforov name on the podium since I’ll be retiring.”

The crowd erupts.

* * *

Yuuri steps off the ice after his exhibition skate to a welcome kiss. 

“Shall I help you change costumes?” Victor smirks.

“Please do.” Yuuri smirks back. They rush off together, well aware they only have a scarce few minutes before Victor’s turn, the dark lights helping them keep their surprise a secret.

“Please welcome to the ice, from Russia, your Gold Medallist, five time consecutive World Champion, who just announced his retirement, Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor lets go of Yuuri’s hand and enters the spotlight, gliding on to the ice to wild applause, mixed with a bit of confusion. Yuuri quietly chuckles. He’s growing to like surprises almost as much as Victor.

“Well, this is certainly unusual. I wasn’t sure I read my notes correctly, but it appears he’ll be giving an encore of his free skate,” the commentator muses.

The music starts and Victor begins the program the same way as usual, the audience as enchanted as last night. The perceptive few might have noticed the slight costume difference or the addition of piano in the music. But even they can’t have been prepared for the moment when, out of nowhere, Yuuri joins Victor on the ice. The cheers and gasps are, oh, so satisfying.

“Just beautiful. And, wow, what a whirlwind season it has been for those two. Even in retirement, Victor Nikiforov gives us a final surprise.”

* * *

**Nikiforovs continue to surprise with record-breaking win and comeback announcement**

BARCELONA, Spain — The Nikiforov winning streak in Men’s Singles figure skating continues as Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov breaks long-time free skate record set by husband and coach Victor Nikiforov to claim Gold at the Grand Prix Final last night. This morning, Nikiforov announced he’ll be returning to the ice after less than a year in retirement. The power couple moved their home rink to Katsuki-Nikiforov’s hometown of Hasetsu, Japan shortly after Worlds in spring of this year. There, they renewed wedding vows in front of friends and family following their controversial elopement during last year’s Grand Prix Final. When asked how he feels about breaking his husband’s record on the day of their anniversary, Katsuki-Nikiforov said, “There’s a place you just can’t reach unless you have a dream too large to bear alone. We call everything on the ice _love._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allo (Алло): Hello, used when answering the phone
> 
> Yuuri transferred his credits and completed his degree in Japan. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Whew! That’s it! Thank you for staying with me through the end. I hope you liked it. 
> 
> The experience of first-time writing was equal parts fun and infuriating, though it did seem to get a bit easier toward the end as I learned that editing is my favorite part of the process. My goal was to write a story that I’d want to read and I accomplished that, but I’m not sure if I’ll continue to write more in the future. Thank you for the kudos and comments—they brought me lots of warm fuzzies and I understand now why other authors ask for them.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> \---
> 
> Update: I caved and ended up writing [another YOI fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194972/chapters/55525075). It's a canon-esque ballroom AU with a twist. Basically, what might happen if YOI was set in the world of competitive ballroom dancing instead of figure skating.


End file.
